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ARNOLD ADAIR 
WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Books By 

Laurence LaTourette Driggs 


The Adventures of Arnold Adair, 
American Ace 

Arnold Adair with the English 
Aces 

Heroes of Aviation 































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Shells struck directly ahead of us, exploded under 
the sea hurling upwards standing towers of water. 

See page 213. 


FRONTISPIECE. 


ARNOLD ADAIR WITH 
THE ENGLISH ACES 


Being the Further Flying Adventures 
of an American Aviator 


BY 

LAURENCE LaTOURETTE DRIGGS 

W 

j 


WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY 

HENRY S. WATSON 


N 

K 

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□N-REFEVT 


caWVAD • Q3S 


BOSTON 

LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPANY 

1922 



By Laurence LaTourette DriCgs. 

All rights reserved 
Published September, 1922 




4 

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Printed in the United States of America 


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©CI.A683504 ^ ^ 

OCT -3 ’2? J 

J* 




A Romance of the World War 

DEDICATED TO 

The Cheerie-O’s 
OF THE R. F. C. 


WHO KNEW THE GREAT ROMANCE. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I 

A Reputation at Stake 



PAGE 

1 

II 

The Club in Bruton Street 



18 

III 

Doctor Franzel Shubrug . 




IV 

The Mole 



45 

V 

Good-By-e-e Blighty! .... 



64 

VI 

The Enticing Targets .... 



85 

VII 

The Gold Cigarette Case . 



102 

VIII 

A Day of Discoveries .... 



120 

IX 

I Meet the Baron 



137 

X 

Lady Joan Dark moor .... 



153 

XI 

A Visit with the General . 



165 

XII 

The Darkmoor Company, Limited 



178 

XIII 

A Film of Sawdust 



185 

XIV 

A Flight Over the Sea .... 



205 

XV 

The Duel with the Baron . 



231 

XVI 

The Darkmoor Railways in India 



245 

XVII 

The German Captain .... 



266 

XVIII 

“Don’t Shoot, Bunny!” .... 



288 

XIX 

Jack Richmond Appears — and Disappears 

303 


















ILLUSTRATIONS 


Shells struck directly ahead of us, exploded under the 

sea hurling upwards standing towers of water, Frontispiece 

PAGE 

“There she goes! Splendid, old son. You got him,” 16 
I saw another machine flash past me . . . 143 

‘‘Don’t shoot, Bunny!” I heard a familiar voice shout 

just behind me ....... 300 






















































































































































































































































































ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE 
ENGLISH ACES 


CHAPTER I 

A REPUTATION AT STAKE 

**QPLENDID! Priceless ! Perfectly ripping! ” ejac- 
^ ulated Colonel Hull, but he spoke in his bored Eng- 
lish accent. I had described with all my enthusiasm the 
details of the new fighting plane, details that I had accu- 
mulated from a score and more of the most famous fight- 
ing pilots of the war. These pilots were youngsters, the 
bulk of them; but they knew the requirements for fight- 
ing craft better than did the veterans of the ordnance de- 
partments, or the designers of aeroplanes themselves. 
For these youngsters had been actually engaged in air 
combats ; they knew better than any grizzled campaigners 
at home just what improvements were needed to make 
their machines a little better than those of the enemy. 

“ It’s a two-seater Bristol, I believe you said,” Colonel 
Hull drawled, drawing his tea cup to him with the 
crook of his forefinger inserted in its handle, with this 
precarious leverage, lifting it to his lips; a burning 
cigarette was neatly balanced between this forefinger 
and the middle joint of the next. “ Jolly slow going old 
bus, I fancy, what ! ” 

“ She’s as fast as a Bristol Fighter with a full load on, 


2 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


sir,” I replied, smiling. “ That’s close to a hundred and 
twenty miles an hour.” 

For the entire fortnight that I had been in England I 
had worked with the mechanics at Colonel Hull’s request 
mounting the rapid fire, one pounder gun in the ma- 
chine, SO 1 that it would operate through the hub of the 
propeller. I had brought over from “ the States,” as 
Colonel Hull called it, special ammunition with this new 
gun, ammunition that had never before been tried against 
the aircraft of an enemy. I had taken great pride in this 
commission to provide my old friend with an improved 
instrument for his own official use. 

“ And you mean to take me up at night over London 
in a dashed racing machine like that ! ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Splendid ! Have you landed this racer — at night ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. She lands beautifully. I flew her over 
from the factory and landed at Blackfriars last night. 
I left her there so it would be handy for you to-night.” 

“ Splendid ! Thoughtful of you, old son. Now I 
can’t help myself, what ! Have more tea.” 

For the past three months Colonel Hull had been in 
charge of the Home Defense of London; he had been 
called back from France, where the big war was on, to 
produce a better protection for the biggest city in the 
world against the aircraft raids of the Germans. 

He was an old family friend, never failing in the old 
days to look in upon us in New York whenever business 
or pleasure had brought him over to visit the States. It 
was this affectionate intimacy between Colonel Hull and 
my family that gave me the hope that he might attach 
me to the London Defense. 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


3 


I had had two years of flying and fighting with the 
French; now after a long four months of inactivity I 
was burning with impatience to get back to the war; I 
was more than eager to fly with the British, where I 
knew I might learn methods and tactics that were new 
and interesting, and where I might see a new and untried 
part of the Front. 

London was being bombed with dismal regularity these 
clear moonlight nights of early spring. Night after 
night I had stood watching the searchlights play upon the 
scudding clouds where hid the menacing Huns with their 
destructive bombs. Archy boomed and burst among the 
raiders, dropping tons of fragments upon housetops and 
pedestrians but rarely disturbing the enemy aeroplanes, 
never swerving them from their object. 

Slow machines were sent against them, but by the 
time they had reached their high level, the Germans had 
dropped their bombs and had disappeared; fast fighting 
machines could not be used for fear of disaster to them- 
selves upon landing; the combination of paces in a ma- 
chine that would fly fast, yet land at low speed, would 
obviously be of great value in his problem. It was this 
very achievement that had been accomplished and that I 
had come to describe to Colonel Hull. 

“ Do you expect them over again to-night, sir ? ” I 
inquired. 

“ Everything’s ready for them,” he replied gloomily. 
“ To-night’s raid will make the seventy-third since the 
war began. A half-moon night like this is exactly what 
they want. No fog to-night either — with this weather. 
Read this.” 


4 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


He picked up a message on a yellow sheet of paper 
and handed it to me. I took it and read : — 

“ Large formation hostile aircraft gathering at Ghis- 
telles aerodrome.” 

“ Who sends this? ” I asked. 

“ Special service,” answered my friend, smiling at me 
quizzically. “We get advance warnings; but the raids 
do not all reach London. Some nights they bomb the 
towns on the Channel. Zeppelins rarely get this far. 
We don’t expect many more Zeps. They’ve lost too 
many. Big bombing planes do the stunt now. They 
can reach London in an hour from Ghistelles. It’s not 
more than a hundred miles.” 

“ It’s getting quite dark now, Colonel ; and it’s only 
five o’clock,” said I, twisting my wrist watch around for 
him to see. 

He grinned at me for a half minute without speaking; 
then he pressed a button at the side of his desk. The 
door opened and his aid, Captain Hedges, appeared. 

“ Get my car around at the rear door, Captain. I 
want you and Commander Ives to go with me to-night. 
We’ll dine at Blackfriars. 

“ Here’s Lieutenant Adair of New York — old family 
friend of mine — been shooting Huns in France — this 
is Captain Hedges, Arnold.” 

I sprang to my feet and shook hands with the captain. 
He was about my own age and wore above his wings a 
row of decorations. But his left arm was off at the 
shoulder. 

“We have received several official orders about you, 
I believe,” he said, smiling at me in a very friendly 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 5 

fashion. “You are joining up with the Royal Air 
Force — ” 

“That will do, Hedges!” Colonel Hull interrupted 
sternly. “ Be good enough to order my car around.” 

The captain colored up as he saluted nimbly, and turn- 
ing upon his heel he left the room. 

“ I wanted to speak to you about joining up, sir,” I 
began with some embarrassment, as Captain Hedges 
closed the door behind him. “ I believe it is arranged 
with the American Embassy here in London to attach me 
to the British until the American aviators get over. I 
would like it very much, sir, if you would put me in the 
London Defense under you, sir.” 

“ You want to be near the London music halls, what ! ” 
replied the colonel, very stem and harsh of manner. 
“ Had enough of Archy, what ! ” 

“ I’d rather be in a fighting squadron at the Front than 
anywhere else in the world,” I replied with some heat. 
“ But I don’t believe I will have luck enough to be as- 
signed to that.” 

“ So you will take me as second choice, what ! ” 

I thought I detected what the colonel would call humor 
in the expression of his countenance, so I merely replied, 
“ Yes, sir.” 

“ That’s what I thought,” said he grimly. 

He busied himself with several papers on his desk 
while I stood at the window looking down upon the 
stream of pedestrians below. This very minute German 
mechanics were working feverishly, over in Ghistelles, 
fastening into their machines heavy bombs of explosives. 
Some of these careless Londoners, now sauntering along 
the embankment idly watching the gulls flying above the 


6 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

Thames — perhaps some of that very group standing 
under my window — would be blown into eternity this 
night by one of those wicked bombs. 

“ Why can’t you keep patrols flying along the coast 
between here and Ghistelles, Colonel, when you get warn- 
ing that these raids are on their way? ” I demanded. 

“ Because, Arnold, the thoughtful Hun doesn’t cross 
the Channel where our patrols expect him. He doesn’t 
approach London twice running from the same direction, 
nor at the same time, nor at the same altitude. You 
can’t see far in the dark. You’d need a thousand de- 
fending planes to patrol the coast all night long. That’s 
just what Germany wants — to keep a thousand aero- 
planes away from the Front to defend London against 
ten or a dozen of their bombing planes. I won’t do it, 
what!” 

“ Well, how are you going to stop them? ” 

“ Wait and see ! ” barked Colonel Hull savagely as he 
thrust a batch of papers within his drawer and locked 
it up. 

We dined cheerfully together, we four, at the pilots’ 
mess on Blackfriars Heath. I had looked over my ma- 
chine, cautioning my mechanic to have it ready for in- 
stant use, as soon as we had arrived on the field. 

We discussed America’s recent entry into the war; we 
debated the question of Germany’s strength in the air ; we 
laughed over the funny way Commander Ives described 
his early mishaps and crashes; we exchanged stories of 
the exploits of Baron von Richtsmann, the famous Ger- 
man ace ; we listened to the colonel’s accounts of how the 
Royal Air Force was run at the Front. 

During all this time messages were coming and going 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


7 


from our table; periodically an orderly approached and 
laid a folded slip beside the colonel’s plate; after lazily 
reading it, the colonel passed it on to Hedges, who in turn 
perused it without speaking. 

Finally a message arrived which caused a break in the 
conversation; the colonel read it over thoughtfully and 
then turned to his subordinate. 

“ Have you notified the stations along the coast ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Searchlight stations? Police? Anti-aircraft bat- 
teries ? Fire stations ? ” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

“ Splendid ! Now get down to the telephone board 
and clear all the trunk lines; the news will soon be com- 
ing in. The Huns left Ghistelles — ten minutes ago.” 

Captain Hedges sprang to his feet, saluted,, and left 
the room. 

“ Ives, you’d better get started too,” the colonel went 
on. “ Get your fellows up in plenty of time to-night. 
Give them half an hour to get their altitude. And don’t 
you come down without a victory or two.” 

Commander Ives was the head of the largest naval 
aerodrome on the Thames; to-night he had brought 
several of his pilots over to Blackfriars in order that 
they might use light land machines to reach more 
rapidly the altitude of the raiders as they approached 
London. 

The commander gathered up his cap and swagger 
stick, and saluting us gravely, departed on his mission. 
Colonel Hull looked at me for a moment in silence, try- 
ing to fathom, as I supposed, the real risk he was running 
in permitting me to take him up on a night like this, in 


8 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


a much faster machine than any of the others tried out 
here before. 

“ Arnold, you blighter ! ” the colonel murmured in an 
unusually soft tone of voice. “ I’m going to trust my 
precious carcass to your judgment to-night; if you crack 
me up, I’ll never forgive you; but if you get me down 
safely in that two-mi le-a-minute gocart, I promise you 
now that you will have a pleasant little surprise wait- 
ing for you to-morrow.” 

Without waiting for my answer, my friend pushed 
back his chair and led the way from the room. At the 
stairs he paused, waiting for me to join him. 

“ We’ve half an hour yet,” he said. “ Want to go up 
and see how our listening apparatus works? It’s rather 
a pet of mine.” 

“ Thanks, very much,” I replied. “ I’d love to see it.” 

“ Right-o. Come along. You will see how we get 
every wireless whisper along the Front; sometimes those 
far in Germany.” 

He led the way upstairs, opened the door into a 
brightly lighted room where sat a young lad of twenty, or 
thereabouts, who appeared to be superintending with very 
solicitous care, the adjustment of a score or more of 
rapidly revolving phonograph records which were all 
spinning silently on their spindles. 

“Evening, Tommy Rounds!” the colonel greeted him 
kindly. “ Any information from the Huns yet? ” 

“ They haven’t reached this side the Channel yet, sir,” 
the lad returned, never lifting his sharp eyes from the re- 
volving disks in front of him. “ Think it will be only 
Gothas to-night, Colonel.” 

“ Great little lad, that,” Colonel Hull whispered to me 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


behind his hand, jerking his thumb toward the absorbed 
figure on the stool. “ This is his own invention. Noth- 
ing stirs within a hundred miles or two but he catches it 
on those records. Big guns, little guns, wireless mes- 
sages, aeroplane propellers — he can tell you where they 
are and what they are. He is a regular bug on code mes- 
sages, too, you can imagine ! Regular little bug ! ” 

“ How does he do it — catch all those messages ? ” 

“ Those disks are made soft ; one for each wave length ; 
upstairs on the roof he has a big dictograph which catches 
all the sound waves and magnifies them ; they come down 
through this vibrator, and register themselves in the soft 
wax, and they harden there. Keep 'em forever. 
Tommy comes here in the morning and finds all sorts of 
records of messages that have been sent through the 
night — some of them nobody else gets at all.” 

I followed the colonel up the short flight of stairs to 
the roof. The night was clear and quiet. No breath of 
wind stirred the smoke of our cigarettes, though clouds 
high above us could be seen slowly drifting westward 
under the white moon. The Huns would have the wind 
against them, on their way home this night. 

“ Do the Huns try to reach London just in time for 
the after-theater crowds on the streets? ” I inquired, sud- 
denly struck with the plausibility of the thought. “ It’s 
just ten-thirty now.” 

“ Don’t believe that interests them much,” replied the 
colonel honestly ; “ they have to wait until dark to avoid 
being seen; if they wait too late they risk running into a 
fog; so just before midnight is their favorite hour.” 

“ Are the land guns any help against these raiders ? ” 
I asked. 


10 ARNOjlD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Not a bit. We figure it takes 317,000 shells to hit 
one aeroplane; ” he replied. “ They are a farce, as every 
airman who has flown through Archy knows. But the 
public wants us to use guns, so we use them. Our own 
falling shells do more damage among the London popu- 
lace than the German bombs do. What goes up must 
come down, you know, what ! 

" And think of the cost of maintaining a circle of guns 
about London,” he went on with emphatic disapproval in 
his tone. “ Say it’s a hundred miles about the circum- 
ference of London. Now, if you place four guns in a 
group, every quarter of a mile around that circumference, 
that makes sixteen hundred guns, doesn’t it ? Three-inch 
guns cost fifteen hundred guineas — that’s seventy-five 
hundred dollars — each ; there’s twelve million dollars 
for your guns alone, not counting the ammunition and 
the men needed to care for them, the land they occupy 
and the buildings to cover them. 

“ And what good are they ? How many of them are 
used on an occasion of an enemy raid ? ” 

“ Half of them! ” I suggested. 

“ Well, let’s see,” replied the colonel, reflectively. 
“Suppose the Huns come over at fifteen thousand feet; 
that’s about three miles! Only the four guns immedi- 
ately below them can reach that high! The rest of 
them may as well not shoot. No sense in using them at 
all. The only real defense against aircraft, is aircraft. 
And the cost of each one of these guns would buy an 
aeroplane a hundred times more effective than the gun is. 

“ Before this war is ended,” he added, after a mo- 
ment’s pause, “ aeroplanes will be dropping mustard gas 
into the streets of London ; and then we will retaliate by 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


11 


dropping aeroplane bombs of mustard gas into Berlin, 
Cologne, Munich. That will be a slaughter of the 
innocents, what! One aeroplane pilot kills a thousand 
people on each trip. Aeroplanes soon will fly silently; 
they will steal swiftly through the night, invisible, terri- 
ble, leaving crowded cities in devastation and terror. 
War is more frightful now than in the days of Csesar.” 

“ Colonel Hull,” I broke in impetuously, “ give me one 
chance to-night with you in this new Bristol of mine — ” 

“ Steady for a minute, you excitable Yank. You don’t 
want to start before we know whether or not the Huns 
are really bound for London, do you? I told you I 
would trust my old bones with you to-night. But we’ll 
wait until Tommy reports where the Huns are headed 
for. Hello, here comes an orderly now.” 

It was in fact a messenger for the colonel, who was 
running toward us from the stairway door. He saluted 
smartly and said : — 

“ Twelve Gothas reported at ten thousand feet above 
Eastchurch, sir, headed toward London.” 

“ Good ! ” replied the colonel. “ Forty miles in thirty 
minutes. Half an hour for us to get the altitude. Lead 
the way, Arnold. I suppose you have everything 
ready ! ” 

“ We can reach ten thousand feet in fifteen minutes, 
sir,” I replied. Pulling on my gauntlets I preceded the 
colonel down the stairs. My heart began to beat with 
excitement and I felt the blood tingle in my veins. 

It was hardly a minute’s walk to my ghost gray bi- 
plane standing in front of the nearest hangar, her nose 
pointing to the field. I ran to the mechanics who were 
at her head, and in a trice they had thrown the cover 


12 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

from her motor and were standing by ready to turn 
her propeller. A minute’s warming up, and then the 
great experiment was on. 

I knew Colonel Hull was my friend, but I did not for- 
get that my whole future with him might depend upon 
his official opinion of the machine and the gun that I had 
persuaded him to let me try as an experiment; for a su- 
perior officer is an official first, and a friend second. I 
knew him better than I knew any one else in the Brit- 
ish Air Office, and it was my one hope that I might 
win a place in his official esteem through an opportunity 
that now seemed ready at hand. 

Before the colonel had buttoned up his coat about his 
ears I had the motor started. The mechanics hastened 
around the wing, two seating themselves upon the tail 
of the Bristol to hold it down, while another stood, rope 
in hand, ready to pull away the chocks in front of the 
wheels upon my signal. 

As I fed in the gas and the propeller increased its 
revolutions, I hastily examined the breech of the gun, be- 
tween my knees, tested the feeding apparatus for the long 
shells, placing one loaded clip in position. A search- 
light flooded the field ahead of us ; in its light I could see 
a crowd of officers and men assembling about our new 
machine waiting to see us take off. 

Against the glare of the searchlight, the blackness of 
the night outside was dreadful. I snapped on the switch 
throwing a light on the instruments in front of me, 
glanced about at the muffled figure of the colonel behind 
my back, and at a nod of his head I waved the mechanics 
away. Pressing back the throttle until the Bristol be- 
gan to' move, I gradually increased her motion until we 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


13 


were sweeping down the field at a prodigious rate. With 
a rush and a roar, she lifted her head and soared up from 
the lighted ground, up into an inky blackness; it was 
several seconds before I could accustom my eyes to the 
darkness. I had a busy moment or two getting balanced, 
then looking upward, I caught a glimpse of the moon. 

In a long climbing spiral, the little bus swiftly rose, 
until glancing down over the side of my cockpit, I dis- 
covered the red corner lights of the field we had left, 
shrunk to pin points in the haze ; the searchlight had been 
extinguished ; we seemed to be standing stock-still. 

“ Fifteen minutes for ten thousand' feet,” I said to 
myself, my eyes fixed on the instruments recording alti- 
tude and speed, as well as clock, compass, inclinometer 
and gauges ; I computed how nearly I would be right in 
my estimate. The load was heavy and there was much 
at stake. 

A slap on my back turned me quickly about ; the colonel 
was pointing away off to port. He was an old hand at 
night flying, he knew this country perfectly. As I fol- 
lowed his gesture, I saw far in the east the dark night 
cut with yellow glares; bursting dots of fire specked the 
blackness above them; occasional gleaming star shells 
lighted up the lower heavens here and there, indicating 
the passing of British planes, who thus signaled their 
searchlights below to prepare for business. The Ger- 
man Gothas were coming. 

Below our wings the glassy Thames gleamed dully in 
the moonlight. Several dark smudges along its course 
told me that we were over the heart of London, and 
these were the bridges. No lights shone in the city; not 
even a searchlight disputed our course. Evidently the 


14 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


watchers below could distinguish the sound of our single 
motor from the. roar occasioned by the enemy Gothas in 
formation. They did not care to disclose their position 
until it became necessary. 

The largest city in the world was beneath- me, its mil- 
lions of inhabitants waiting in darkness, terrified by the 
coming menace — wondering all of them, which of them 
would be selected* by fate for punishment this night. I 
wondered if the German- airmen really knew the power 
they possessed, thus to prostrate before them six millions 
of fellow human beings ! What a thought ! 

Soon* a- searchlight appeared below us; its operator 
heard our motor and in nervous expectation began to 
whip the sky with his broad finger of light. Twice he 
flashed over us without seeing us; the third time he 
paused' momentarily, then held us fixed in his grasp. 
Looking down I was blinded with the glare. A dozen 
machines might be passing undetected between me and- 
that* furnace, of light. This* discovery gave me an idea. 

Instead of- attempting to gain a place above the watch- 
ful Germans I would keep a level just below them; the 
searchlights then* would blind their eyes instead of mine ; 
equally important, I could follow their progress with the 
searchlights upon them, while my Bristol would be hid- 
den from them in the glare* of the powerful lights. 

Accordingly I leveled off at nine thousand feet and 
headed toward, the fire works in the east. We were ap- 
proaching each other. swiftly; another five minutes would 
bring us together. Already could’ be distinguished the 
concentration of our searchlights upon one common point. 
From bases far and near, long yellow fingers of light 
ceased their wandering and steadily held one moving 


A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


15 


spot. I must work my way into that glare before my 
coming is suspected. For that one moving spot is 
the oncoming flight of enemy bombers. 

Banking sharply over I slid down to the nearest wall 
of light. Entering its glare, I turned the nose of the 
Bristol sharply upward. Holding a course that pre- 
sented only the sharp edges of my wings to the enemy 
above I opened my throttle full out and climbed for all 
that was in her. For one agonizing moment I feared 
that I had dropped too far beneath them. One by one I 
counted the dusky planes gliding in single file above me, 
the suspended bombs beneath them shining in the light, 
the noise of their motors drowned in the roar of my own, 
the long line now and again obliterated entirely from 
view, as a bursting shell from land guns below filled the 
path of light with drifting patches of smoke. 

But by slightly leveling my course, I found that I 
could* pick them up with ease. The Bristol was much 
faster than they. One stare shot was all I wanted. But 
I must make that shot sure. I determined to pick the 
last machine in the formation. Its gunners would have 
their eyes to the rear. Its pilot could see nothing below. 

One by one, the Gothas passed over me, now twenty, 
now fifty feet apart. Now and again two flew abreast, 
almost wing and wing. Colonel Hull called sharply to 
me through the speaking tube fastened inside our helmets, 
telling me that we were getting back to the outskirts of 
London, and. that I must look sharp. Glancing back to 
the end of the line, I prepared for a quick zoom upward. 
I dropped my hand to the breech of the gun, slipped in 
the first shell, and cocked her, ready for firing. 

Lowering my head until the sights were in line, I 


16 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


pulled back the joy stick and waited. Swiftly the Bristol 
sped upward, deftly she held the target in view. Eighty 
yards- — seventy — sixty ! With one convulsive pull, I 
pressed the trigger and held it back. The big gun 
boomed loud' above the other noises ; again and again she 
spoke. Each discharge was followed- by a whirling cir- 
cle of light from the very nose of the Bristol; the shock 
of the discharge noticeably shook her. Five shells in all, 
one second apart, sped forward; the last two went 
straight to their target. Swerving swiftly aside, I 
avoided a crash, and passed a scant rod beneath the ugly 
black Maltese crosses' that marked the under wings of 
the German: bomber. 

The last Gotha in line was ablaze. From under her 
tail, as we passed, a living stream of flaming bullets 
poured forth- at us. A tardy machine gunner, lying 
prone in' her tail, had awakened to’ his danger too late. 

As we emerged from the blinding furnace of light and 
lost ourselves in the blackness beyond, I heard the colonel 
yell excitedly through the tube : — 

“There she goes! Splendid, old son! You got her. 
I say! what an appalling lot of fireworks that gun of 
yours shoots ! Look at it burn ! Phosphorous powder, 
by Jove! Look out now, Archy is. getting pretty thick 
here. Drop down, will' you ? There is the river below 
us. The Gotha will drop* near the river. Find out 
where we are, and we’ll mark the spot. I want to ex- 
amine that wreck by daylight.” 

It was long after midnight when we found our prize. 
She lay a charred and twisted mass, just outside the vil- 
lage of Gravesend. Since it was quite impossible to make 
a satisfactory examination of her now, we left a police- 



“There she goes! Splendid, old son. You got him.” 
See page 16. 



















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A REPUTATION AT STAKE 


17 


man in charge until morning. The colonel and I 
motored back to London as pleased a pair of travelers 
as could be found this night. At three o’clock that morn- 
ing our car drew up in front of the War Office in the 
Strand ; Colonel Hull alighted and stood on the curb, pull- 
ing his short mustache in a manner typical of him; he 
eyed me steadily as he spoke. 

“ Have you more of those carriage- wheel projectiles, 
old boy ? ” 

“ Only about two dozen. But I know where you can 
get all you want — in the States.” 

“ The shell spreads out after it leaves the gun, what ! ” 

“ Yes, sir. There are four segments of the shell, all 
filled with phosphorous powder; the rotary motion, as 
they leave the gun, causes them, to spread out ; they are 
held together by thirty inches of piano wire.” 

“Top-hole good idea that; a one-inch shell spreads to 
thirty inches, as soon as it leaves the gun. I say, old 
Yank, you couldn’t have missed that Gotha if you had 
tried, what ! ” 

“ Anywhere she strikes she sets the fabric on fire, sir.” 

“Unless it’s an all metal machine, eh! Well, toddle 
along and get some sleep. We’ll talk this over to- 


morrow. 


CHAPTER II 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 

\ WFUL night, sir, wasn't it, sir?” muttered the 
valet as he brought the small table up to the side 
of my bed late next morning and adjusted the tray neatly 
upon it. “ Hevery time I ’ear those sirens blowin’, and 
the maroons a-blastin’ the alarums I goes straight for the 
cellar. 

“ I knows, sir, some of you young gentlemen don’t 
mind it. When I come and woke you up night before 
last, sir, and told you it was best for you to go to the 
cellar, you told me to bring the cellar up here, sir. Ha, 
ha; you young gentlemen will ’ave your little jokes, sir. 

“ But I cawn’t bear those beastly bombs, sir. Beastly, 
I calls them; last night was the worst we ’ave ’ad, sir. 
You weren’t in, sir. The English langwidge ain’t ex- 
pressive enough to properly classify them Huns what 
commit these ’ere houtrages, sir.” 

Thus grumbling, the old man busied himself about my 
room. The fire was burning brightly in the grate; the 
water splashed merrily into the tub; through the parted 
window curtains, a ten o’clock April sun came streaming 
through onto the carpet. 

The valet propped up the morning Times against the 
coffee percolator on the tray ; against it lay a large enve- 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 19 

lope, addressed to me, bearing across the top, in large 
black capital letters, the superscription, 

“ON HIS MAJESTY’S SERVICE.” 

There was something very impressive and dignified in 
this brief phrase. I leaned over and took the envelope 
from the tray. 

“ Lord bless you, sir,” the old man exclaimed as he 
bent over the tunic that I had worn the night before and 
examined it closely as he took it from the back of the 
bedroom chair, “ you’re in the hair Force yourself all 
this time and I didn’t know it, sir. Just home on leave, 
are you, sir ! Back to Old Blighty for a rest, sir ! I will 
have these pressed and back to you in a minute, sir.” 
And he took my old French tunic tenderly up, rubbed his 
forefinger, along the airman’s wings embossed in white, 
studied the varicolored ribbons which military vanity 
places above the emblem of the aviator, and with my 
breeches across his arm, my boots held in his other hand, 
he hobbled across the room and disappeared from my 
view. 

The sight of the letter had banished sleep from my 
eyes. I slitted the impressive envelope open with my 
fruit knife and took out the single sheet of paper it con- 
tained. It was but a line or two from Colonel Hull, 
bidding me meet him at one o’clock for luncheon, at the 
Flying Club in Bruton Street. Evidently the colonel had 
not gone to bed at all last night. 

Now, I thought to myself, as I tubbed and shaved and 
got back into my old French uniform fresh from the 
valet’s hands, now, perhaps he will take me on at 
Blackfriars with a regular commission; my two weeks’ 


20 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


leave was about up; unless my old friend applied for 
me through proper channels, I must report for duty at 
the American Embassy within the next day or two ; take 
whatever assignment they happened to give me. The 
chances were, it seemed to me, I would be put at an office 
desk in London, where no more opportunities for flying 
would come my way during this war. 

America had but recently entered the great war. Our 
air force at home was getting underweigh. My inclina- 
tion, as well as my duty, turned me from my old French 
squadron, to assist in forming our own. Certain Ameri- 
can squadrons were to be brigaded with the British as 
soon as they were trained ; I sought for and obtained per- 
mission to return to Europe, there to await, in London, 
my captain’s commission and such assignment to active 
duty as the American officials in London thought fit. 

Precisely at one o’clock I found my way across 
Berkeley Square and turned in to the Aviators Club in 
Bruton Street. The entrance was jammed with young 
English aviators, all spick and span in their natty flying 
uniforms, every one of which, judging from the number 
of decorations he wore, was but freshly back from the 
Front. 

Surrounded by a somewhat more restrained group, in 
the lounge of the Club, I discovered my friend, Colonel 
Hull. He was on the lookout for me; he stepped for- 
ward to greet me as soon as I had crossed the threshold. 
Slipping his hand under my arm he led me toward the 
group, the various members of which had leaped to their 
feet as soon as the colonel had risen from his chair. 

“ Lieutenant Adair, of New York ! ” the colonel an- 
nounced, pressing me forward. Then, one by one, he 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 


21 


introduced each pilot of the group to me. Captains, all 
of them were; priceless fellows, too, they seemed; 
something in the very air with which they carried them- 
selves made me feel certain that they had fully earned the 
extraordinary number of decorations which they wore 
above their wings. If each bar; superimposed upon those 
colored bits of ribbon, indicated an especial citation from 
the British army, and I knew that it did, then these avia- 
tors had seen long and brilliant service indeed. 

“Jolly good show, that of yours, last night, Captain 
Adair,” one of these officers, Captain Ballou by name, 
observed with very frank good nature as he was pre- 
sented to me. I did not have time to correct him in the 
flattering promotion he had given me, for others stepped 
forward to shake hands with me. But I made a rapid 
mental note of Captain Ballou. He was tall and light 
complexioned, mingling the appearance of an overgrown 
boy with that of a man of fashion and good taste. Babe 
Ballou, the others called him, and later I came to know 
that he belonged to a family of very great importance in 
England. 

“ Teftwalden Walsh, the Welshman!” introduced the 
colonel, seizing a small-sized, thick-set pilot by his broad 
shoulders> and shoving him toward me. His tunic wore 
a double row of decorations, thickly set with bars. His 
black eyes sparkled mischievously as he grasped my hand 
in a vise-like grip. It was not long before I learned that 
everybody spoke of Taffy Walsh’s marvelous eyes and 
his many decorations in the same breath. He had run 
away from a private school at the age of seventeen, had 
pleaded and wangled his way into the air force in spite 
of all opposition. Soon his great zest for flying, coupled 


22 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


with his most extraordinary eyesight and good shooting, 
had set him apart as one of the most remarkable pilots 
and air fighters in the British service. A short, jolly 
little figure he was, full of vigor and vivacity; feared by 
the German pilots who had encountered him, and es- 
caped; respected by his superior officers and well known 
the length and breadth of the British Front. 

Warren Foote, or Feet, as he seemed to be called by 
his companions, was another captain, and had been the 
commanding officer of one of the fighting squadrons at 
the Front. His right leg had been shot away in 1914, 
while Foote was with the infantry. After leaving the 
hospital, and finding that he would not be permitted to 
go back to his old regiment, he had learned to fly despite 
one leg of wood. So skillful did he become, and so per- 
sistent was he in his efforts to' get back into the fighting, 
he was soon sent over to France as a ground officer in an 
air unit; he flew constantly instead of attending to his 
ground duties ; another month and his achievements in the 
air brought him a citation from his general; within the 
year Captain Foote was among the leading aces of the 
British. 

Bullets occasionally found their way into his wooden 
leg, but he had never again been wounded in his person ; 
two or three bad crashes had occurred during his flying 
at the Front, one of which actually broke the wooden 
leg without otherwise injuring him. By the time he 
had replaced this useful ornament three times his com- 
rades gave him the name of Feet. 

Several other celebrated pilots happened at this time 
to be home from the Front for a short leave in Blighty, 
as London was affectionately called by them, — and all 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 


23 


of them seemed to make the Flying Club their rendez- 
vous. Luncheon, I was told, invariably brought them to- 
gether there — those who were in London. For dinner 
their adoring parents and sweethearts claimed them. 

Shouts of laughter greeted newcomers who had just 
left the Front this very morning. Cheery farewells were 
called to others who were departing from the Club door 
in their motors for the field where their machines awaited 
them to take them back on this their last day of leave. 
They were off for another session with the “ merry 
Huns ” on the other side. “ Gone West ” were several, 
whose names were but mentioned, and then passed in 
silence. Eyes would drop to the floor on receiving this 
information concerning some pal; then a careless flick 
of a cigarette ash would dismiss the painful thought from 
the mind. For “ going West ” was but a trifling jour- 
ney, after all. It comes to everybody sooner or later so 
nothing more need be said about it ! 

“ Here comes Major Stuart,” the colonel announced 
impatiently, as a quiet, steady-eyed man of medium 
height entered the lounge and looked about him. We 
rose to our feet as the major approached. 

Major Duncan Stuart was a name well known to’ me, 
as it was to every fighting pilot in the armies of the 
Allies. I had never met him before, stationed as I had 
always been with French units; but his victories in the 
last two years of air fighting in France had made him 
as well known to the aviators of the war as any general 
in the army. He was the acknowledged leader of the 
English fighting airmen; he had more victories in air to 
his credit than any other pilot; the exact number of 
these victories was not known, and it is doubtful if an 


24 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

exact count of them had ever been kept. Major Stuart 
was equally well known as a great squadron commander. 
There are many commanding officers who neither know 
how to control their reckless pilots, nor how to get the 
best results from these restless spirits. Duncan Stuart, 
the outstanding airman of them all, evidently did know 
this secret, for he had been given the command of an all- 
star squadron of picked fighting pilots at the Front, and 
his squadron was reputed to be the finest ever formed. 

Major Stuart seemed to be covertly studying me as we 
seated ourselves at table. His face was tanned from 
long and constant outdoor exercise. His hair was black 
and neatly brushed back from his forehead, his eyes wide 
apart and authoritative in their expression, his whole 
figure betraying unusual muscular and physical perfec- 
tion. Altogether it was simple to see that Major Dun- 
can Stuart was fully worthy of his great reputation, and 
equally plain that he was in no' manner spoiled by it. 
Major Stuart began to converse in a somewhat reserved 
tone. 

“ Colonel Hull telephoned me this morning about your 
volunteer mission last night.” 

“ He did ? I did not suppose he was interested espe- 
cially. I was glad when I got him down safely, though 
I didn’t tell him so.” 

“ He is a very old friend of yours, isn’t he ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. He has visited us several times in the 
States.” I could see that Colonel Hull was studiously 
paying no attention to our conversation, which led me to 
believe that he was closely following every word I 
uttered. I knew enough about the mental habits of Eng- 
lishmen to understand something of their self restraint. 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 


25 


I realized that the colonel had told these pilots something 
of our expedition against the Gothas the night before, 
and again I felt hopeful that he would eventually ask me 
to join his Home Defense Force. 

But it was not until Major Stuart abruptly exploded 
his next remark into my ears that I realized the extent 
of Colonel Hull’s interest in me. 

“ We shall be very glad to have you with us in the 
Independent Fighting Squadron-, Captain Adair,” he said 
cordially. “ You have been something of a solo-artist 
with the French, Colonel Hull tells me. What machines 
have you been flying ? ” 

I shot a glance across the table at the colonel. He was 
fingering his spoons, a very bored expression on his face. 

“ Nieuports, and Spads, and Caudrons, and Farmans,” 
I answered somewhat feebly, being conscious that my 
face was showing my delight at this wonderful and un- 
expected invitation. I knew now what my old friend 
had done for me. 

“ Thanks very much* indeed,” I went on. “ There is 
nothing I should like so much as being in your wonderful 
Corps.” And I looked- my thanks, first at Major Stuart 
and then at Colonel Hull. The latter returned my look 
with a glance both innocent and stony. 

“ Adair is a Yank, you know, Stuart. Don’t be fooled 
by those ribbons on that French uniform and conclude 
that he is good,” the colonel put in harshly. “ You take 
an appalling risk with these Yanks,” he continued, as he 
spread butter on a morsel of roll, “ they’re too proud to 
fight, you know, what ! ” 

My initiation was coming mercilessly and soon. There 
is nothing an Englishman hates so much as being thanked 


26 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

for a favor, in the way we Americans think proper to do. 
Like a flash the cue suggested by the colonel passed 
around the table. Babe Ballou gave me a glance from 
the comer of his eye as he addressed Colonel Hull in* his 
beautifully modulated voice. I couldn’t resist laughing 
as the immoderate American slang issued forth from’ that 
classic mouth. 

“ That sure was some battle you and Adair gave us 
last night, Colonel. I guess that will hold old Fritz for 
a while ! ” 

“ Speaking about ‘ some battle,’ ” drawled Foote, in 
his quiet Oxford intonation and accent, “ my father was 
reading the press bulletin down on the Strand, this morn- 
ing, getting the returns from the big show they started 
at Vimy Ridge last night. Forty thousand killed, was 
in big black letters, on the billboard. 

“ An American chap was at the Pater’s elbow, read- 
ing the bally sheet. He looked up at the Pater, whistled 
and said : — ‘ Whew ! Some fight ! ’ ” 

“ 4 Yes ! ’ the governor admitted, looking rather dazed 
for the moment; then recognizing the chap for a Yank 
from the cigar in his mouth, he said : — ‘ Yes, some 
do!”’ 

I was the only one at the table who really laughed at 
this joke: the others merely smiled. It was a clever re- 
buke, for the Americans had just entered the war, and 
for two years, England had not been able to understand 
our hesitation. 

A somewhat boisterous fellow sat at our table. He 
seemed rather out of place among the others. His name 
was Larry Fallon, nicknamed the Priest, because he had 
been immured in a German monastery preparatory to 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 


27 


taking orders in the church when the war broke out ; he 
was seized with the desire to enter the flying game, 
promptly escaped from the monastery, subsequently es- 
caped from Germany and made his way home to Eng- 
land. He enlisted in the Royal Flying Corps and was 
now a member of Stuart’s crack squadron. Fallon 
seemed more sympathetically inclined toward the Yank 
than the others, for he protested against further rude 
stories concerning my country. 

Fallon was, Major Stuart informed me, one of the new 
members of his squadron. Notwithstanding Fallon’s 
generous turning of the banter away from me, I did not 
like him. Welsh was another member of the Independ- 
ent Fighting Squadron, as were Ballou and Foote. All 
five had flown over together yesterday from their aero- 
drome near Bethune, and they had but a four-day leave. 
Blighty could be reached in an hour’s steady flying in 
one of their fast machines. 

I had heard many stories of this famous aggregation 
of aces that comprised the Independent Fighting Squad- 
ron, of course. Who had not? They were all for one 
and one for all. The nose of each machine of this unit 
was painted a vivid blue. Many times I had encountered 
these blue-noses in the air; one or two individual mem- 
bers of this organization I had met on the ground; but 
only the general reputation of their prowess had reached 
my ears. The British, unlike the other combatants en- 
gaged in this war, do not publish broadcast tO' the world 
the victories and exploits of their great aces. It is bad 
taste and is destructive of unity and morale, they hold. 

Nor is any other nation so chary of bestowing compli- 
ments on a soldier for heroic conduct, as is Great Brit- 


28 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


ain; some nations may give a cook the medal of honor 
for preparing' high- dignitaries a good meal ; others may 
flatter those in high office with a decoration, or a title; 
even our own country sometimes overestimates the gal- 
lantry of arm-chair patriots, rewarding those who never 
heard a 1 bullet, with a badge for heroic conduct ; but the 
English, hold their honors* more highly. Oft repeated 
and.' well-authenticated, deeds of heroism, by their own 
men are perhaps too infrequently rewarded, or even 
recognized, by this discriminating government. They are 
more generous with their colonials than with their own. 

Colonel Hull informed me, in a casual aside, that my 
captain’s commission was now awaiting me at the Ameri- 
can Embassy. He had taken the pains of setting the 
wheels in motion there. Again I discovered how much 
more he had done for me than I had imagined. He had 
even told these fellows of my captaincy before he had 
given the information to me. 

“ There will be plenty for you to do to get ready, be- 
fore we go back, day after to-morrow,” Major Stuart 
suggested in a quiet undertone while the others were 
loudly arguing some important question. “ You may 
like to go to my tailor for your new uniform. I will 
write his address down for you. Tell him it must be 
ready to-morrow night. Better still I will go to see him 
with you after lunch. 

“ I will have a machine for you at Eastholt ; the East- 
holt aerodrome is just outside of London, you know. 
We must get back promptly. They started the biggest 
show of the war this morning, from Arras. We’re just 
above Arras. Pretty stiff going, you will find it. We 
have a special area to cover, and we are opposed by the 


THE CLUB IN BRUTON STREET 


29 


best the Huns have. That’s why we organized this col- 
lection of top-hole fighters. It’s stiff going and all that. 
Heavy losses sometimes and all that. We always keep 
recruited up to twenty-five; I can usually select the men 
I want from other squadrons.” 

I was to have my chance — an undreamed-of piece of 
good fortune — flying among the best that England had. 
Just so I had found myself at the very beginning of the 
war, in Philip Pieron’s crack French Corps. I mar- 
veled at my luck which had led me into the first fight in 
defense of Paris in those early days of fighting; and now 
after all these months, it had again inaugurated my career 
with the English by a flight with Colonel Hull against a 
night attack on London. What a strange coincidence 
that home defense should start my war flying with each ! 

Just before we adjourned a tall lank Scotsman 
joined us. Major Stuart leaned close to my shoulder 
and murmured : — 

“ One of the best ! That’s Wee Willie Douglas. I 
have applied for him in my squadron. He fights just as 
he bets, with his head. He makes a sure thing of it be- 
fore he goes in. Lovable fellow too, when you know 
him. He doesn’t mix with the rest, but he is as depend- 
able as Gibraltar. His pilots adore him, for occasionally 
Douglas will shoot down a Hun and give the credit to 
some beginner who- is out on his first flight. Good policy 
that. Bucks up the new pilots and gives them confidence. 
Not many commanding officers would sacrifice their own 
victories with such an object, would they? ” 

“Trocadero for tea at four-thirty, Feet!” suggested 
Ballou, poising a gold pencil above a small note book. 
Foote nodded. 


30 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


‘'You’d better put it down,” Foote cautioned him 
sardonically. “ You won’t be there, and you will deny 
you ever made the date when I see you again. Bel- 
linger and his crowd will be there, so don’t you forget.” 


CHAPTER III 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 

AS we passed out of the Club to the street, I could 
not help but admire the well-set-up appearance of 
the British flying officers. Immaculate in dress, a dress 
far more suitable and pleasing to aviators than the uni- 
form adopted by either the French or by our own coun- 
try, every pilot in the group carried himself well and 
seemed to take unconscious pride in the fit and smartness 
of his attire. A healthy, vigorous appearance testified 
to the physical exercise that is demanded of all officers 
in the British service. We stood in a group on the pave- 
ment exchanging farewells. 

“ Well, Cheerie O, old bean ! ” said Warren Foote, 
walking up to me quite as steadily on a well leg and a 
half as most of us walk on two; “ toddle in at the 
Troc&dero for tea this afternoon, if you can; everybody 
will be there. We expect you at the Royale for dinner 
at eight ; theater * As You Were ! ’ at nine.” 

“ Thanks very much ; ” I replied. “ I have a lot of 
things to attend to this afternoon; Uniform, American 
Embassy, my commission, and all that, but I will come 
if I can. I’ll meet you at dinner anyway.” 

“ Taxi ! ” shouted Feet, waving his swagger stick 
jauntily at an approaching cruiser. The Jehu stopped at 
the curb and opened the door with great civility of 
manner. 


32 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ To the leg doctor’s, Germyn Street, I forget the num- 
ber. Drive along until I tell you to stop,” he directed 
the driver, then shaking hands again he added casually, 
“ have to oil up my right knee a bit ; it’s getting stiff.” 
The cab disappeared into Bond Street. 

“ And how do you like our London humor, old son ? ” 
inquired Colonel Hull as he shook my hand at parting; 
“ bit rough to rag a visiting American on his first appear- 
ance, eh, what ! ” 

“ Oh, was that London humor? ” I looked at him very 
coldly. “ I did not know you were trying to be humor- 
ous.” 

“ Touche,” laughed the colonel approvingly, then he 
drew me closer and murmured, “ Duncan Stuart wants to 
have a chat with you before you go. Stout fellow, that, 
Stuart.” 

“ Yes, he asked me to wait for him,” I replied. “ I 
can’t thank you enough, Colonel, for what you have done 
for me — ” 

But staring blankly at my outstretched hand, he shook 
it briefly, turned on his heel, and twirling his swagger 
stick in his fingers, strode firmly away toward Bond 
Street. 

The gaiety and the joyousness of the aviator’s spirits 
seemed quite the same in London as in Paris; the war 
pilot on leave from the Front will spend his time with 
other pilots, exchanging merry stories of narrow escapes 
and marvelous exploits, talking incessant gossip and ru- 
mors of war flying, instead of succumbing to the fond 
attentions of parents and old-time friends who are des- 
perately anxious to take the dear boy’s mind, for a few 
hours, from the horrors of war. 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 


33 


Duncan Stuart, however, was one of the exceptions. 
He joined me presently and hooking his arm under mine, 
started toward the Bond Street corner. 

“ It’s only a couple of squares to my tailors and we’ll 
walk if you don’t mind; we must get your uniform 
finished by to-morrow night.” 

He shifted his stick to his left hand and smartly sa- 
luted a passing trio of Tommies, The stick was of 
polished wood of several kinds, laminated, the layers 
showing plainly in their several colors. The handle was 
a mere knob while the ferule was made of a machine-gun 
cartridge, the bullet end tapering down to a point. 

“ Isn’t that a prop stick? ” I asked, taking it from his 
hand to examine it. 

“ Yes. Had it made from the propeller of the ma- 
chine I was shot down in, in flames one morning. Nar- 
row squeak ! Closest I ever had.” 

“ In flames ! How high up were you ? ” 

“ Seven or eight thousand feet. Baron von Richts- 
mann got me on my side of the lines.” 

“ How did you keep out of the flames ? ” 

“ Side-slipped all the way down and let the fire eat up 
most of the right wing; I was hanging outside the cock- 
pit on the left.” 

“ Did the Baron leave you alone? ” 

“ Yes, he did. Two of his pilots came in to get me 
while I was falling, but the Baron dived down and drove 
them away. That’s his style, you know.” 

“ I’ve never met the Baron. He must be a decent 
sort. I should think you would prize that stick; that is 
some souvenir, as we say in the States.” 

We climbed a stairway to the tailors where Stuart 


34 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


finally persuaded the proprietor to abandon everything 
else and turn his whole shop over to outfitting me for the 
Front. I was measured and pulled about very energet- 
ically and in fifteen minutes we left, taking with us the 
solemn assurance of the tailor that everything would be 
ready for me by the following evening. 

“ Marvelous work ! ” I commented, as we again found 
ourselves in the street. “ In New York that job could 
not be done in less than a week.” 

“ They are accustomed to quick orders nowadays,” an- 
swered Stuart. “ Let’s walk up Piccadilly and around 
to my diggings in Berkeley Square ; it is just around the 
corner ; we will have a little chat there by ourselves.” 

Stuart’s diggings I found to be a splendid old mansion 
sitting back of an iron grill fence that faced the square. 
An old man servant admitted us with staid formality, 
later following us into a rear room of the house where he 
lighted a fire in the grate, and opened the blinds out into 
a spacious and unsuspected garden plot at the rear. 

“ Family down in Warwickshire,” explained Major 
Stuart, offering me cigarettes. “ The mater does not like 
German bombs ; no more does the pater. 

“ I say,” he went on, smiling down at me in the most 
friendly fashion, “ Colonel Hull was tremendously 
bucked over that show of yours last night. He is not 
naturally enthusiastic, but, by Jove, he wouldn’t let go 
the telephone this morning until I had promised to take 
you on.” 

We talked and smoked over the fire until late in the 
afternoon. We discussed the war, the development of 
flying as a new art of warfare, the strength of the enemy, 
the morale of the British and the French and the coming 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 


35 


of the American troops. Stuart was the only son in his 
family he told me, and the strain of the war upon his 
father and mother had been very great. He had one 
sister, much older than himself, married and living in 
London. Every time he came home on leave he spent 
as much time as possible with his mother in the country. 

We found we had several friends in common besides 
Colonel Hull. Duncan Stuart had never visited the 
United States, but his father owned property in Cali- 
fornia and for many years had been in the custom of 
visiting California for a month in the winter. 

Duncan was just a little older than I in years, but his 
superior rank and his commanding position had given 
his character a sternness that made him appear much 
older. His manner changed abruptly as soon as he be- 
came my host and we were alone together ; he seemed to 
wish to gain an intimate knowledge of my personal char- 
acteristics and he exerted himself skillfully and charm- 
ingly to draw me out. Stuart’s was one of those delight- 
ful English voices, musical, cultivated, pleasing to the 
ear. 

The old servant brought in the tea tray, pulled down 
the curtains and lighted the lamps. I noticed the old 
man’s eyes fix themselves now and then with a troubled 
expression on his young master’s face. I felt that he 
had some bad news to relate but was undecided whether 
or not to undertake it. Duncan, unnoticing, poured out 
the tea and helped me to cake. The man walked nerv- 
ously to the door, then turning about with sudden reso- 
lution, spoke. 

“ Anything else, Master Duncan ? ” he asked. 

Stuart looked up quickly; he caught the affectionate 


36 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and almost pathetic glance of the old servant as he stood 
with his hand on the door. 

“ What is it, Grimes ? ” Duncan asked gently. “ Out 
with it.” 

“ Doctor Shubrug called, Master Duncan. I told him 
you were in but that you had one of your friends with 
you. He told me not to take his name to you but that 
he would call again.” 

Stuart put down his cup and regarded the old man with 
a stern eye. The latter did not lift his gaze from his 
boots. 

“ Did he come alone? ” 

“ Yes, sir. His car was waiting for him in the street.” 

“ Did Doctor Shubrug ask you any questions ? ” 

Grimes hesitated an instant before answering and I de- 
tected a slight tightening of the muscles of Stuart’s chest. 

“ He asked me when you were to return to — the 
Front, sir.” 

“ Grimes,” asked Major Stuart, after pondering in 
silence a moment, “ how many times has Doctor Shubrug 
been here to ask for me ? ” 

“ Three times, sir. You saw him the last time you 
were home, sir.” 

“ Yes, I remember,” said Stuart softly. He took up 
his cup and held it without drinking. “ That will do, 
Grimes.” 

Stuart took a piece of cake from the tray as the old 
servant shuffled from the room. But before the door had 
closed behind Grimes he called to him to return. Then 
turning suddenly to me with an apologetic smile he asked 
abruptly : — 

“ Where are your traps, Adair? ” 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 


37 


“ Claridges,” I replied. 

“ Glad to put you up here with me, if you can stand 
it,” he said cordially. “ House upset and all that. Ser- 
vants all in the country except Grimes and his wife. 
Plenty of room though and you will be made comfort- 
able.” 

“Awfully decent of you, Stuart, but you will want 
your time to yourself if you are going back in two 
days — ” I began. 

“ Rot,” he replied shortly, “ you won’t see much of me. 
I am going down tO' Warwickshire on the six o’clock to 
spend the night with my mother. I’ll be back to-morrow 
afternoon. 

“ Grimes,” he went on briskly, “ go around to Clar- 
idges and get Captain Adair’s luggage. Have the room 
next to mine made ready for him, and see to breakfast. 
You’re dining at the Royale, aren’t you?” he added, 
turning to me. 

“ Yes, if I can get to my Embassy first. I must see 
to my transfer papers and my commission.” 

“ And don’t forget to open an account with Cox,” 
cautioned Stuart. “ Cox banks for all the aviators who 
fly at the Front. He has some arrangement with the 
Holland banks by which checks drawn on his bank are 
honored in Germany. He will give you a sort of code 
by which you can communicate with your family through 
these checks if you are captured. Comes in rather handy 
at times.” 

“ Do the Huns let a code message through that way ? ” 

“ Oh, it’s not very much of a message. Simply lets 
your family know you are alive and a prisoner, when the 
Germans may be anxious to have you reported killed. 


38 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

You can always find some person who will cash a cheque 
on Cox — the German Red Cross, for instance. And 
when Cox gets it he pays it through Holland; then he 
sends the cancelled cheque to your family and they know 
you are not killed but merely a prisoner. ,, 

Promising to do as my friend advised me, I accepted 
a night key from Grimes, and made my departure, Stuart 
promising to see me on the following afternoon to ar- 
range for a machine in which I might fly over the Chan- 
nel in his company. 

I hailed a passing taxi, gave him the address of the 
American Embassy, and soon I was buzzing rapidly along 
the left hand side of the crooked and narrow streets of 
old London, London the mother metropolis of all Eng- 
lish-speaking people. Now, after one hundred and fifty 
years' separation, an American is hastening to don the 
uniform of the British, to fight side by side with those 
once our enemies but always our blood relations. 

With much pride in this new reconciliation and unity 
of the States with our old Mother Country, and par- 
ticularly gratified with my personal lot, I ran up the steps 
of our Embassy and gave my name to the man at the 
door. Fifteen minutes later I descended the steps with 
a commission from His Majesty the King, in my pocket, 
making me a captain in his most celebrated squadron of 
air fighters, the Independent Fighting Squadron of the 
Royal Air Force. 

I wore my old French uniform for the last time that 
night, meeting Foote, Ballou, Walsh and a dozen other 
pilots in their party at the Cafe Royale for dinner at 
eight o’clock. They had engaged the entire front row 
at the theater to see the latest hit now playing in London, 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 


39 


and as we wended our way down the aisle to take our 
seats, Foote led the way on his crutches; his right leg 
was missing, his slacks doubled up and made fast on that 
leg above his knee. 

At dinner that night he had described the effect this 
sudden operation at his “ leg doctor’s ” had made upon 
the driver of his cab. 

Foote had entered the cab in front of the Club in 
Bruton Street as I have described, looking as fit on his 
two limbs as any other able-bodied person; he did not 
even use his cane. Arriving in Jermyn Street, Foote 
told the cabby to wait for him, and walking erectly to 
the doctor’s door, he climbed the stairs and entered the 
office. 

After an examination of the artificial limb, the doctor 
desired Foote to unstrap it and leave it with him until 
the next day. He loaned Foote a pair of crutches and 
thus supported, Foote descended the stairs and hobbled 
up to the waiting cabman who was improving his time 
at the curb by polishing up the windows of his cab. 

As Foote approached and tapped the cabman on the 
shoulder, the latter turned and looked him over. His 
eyes wandered from the face of his late fare to the 
severed right leg hanging in air and supported by 
crutches. His mouth fell open as he gazed in bewilder- 
ment. Never in all his days had he known of an opera- 
tion so neat and quick. As he wended his way up the 
street, the nonplussed driver continued shaking his head 
and- muttering to himself, occasionally turning about to 
stare in amazement at the grinning Foote behind him. 

“ He didn’t even look at the one and six I gave him 
when I dismissed him,” concluded Feet; “ he stood there 


40 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


staring after me for some minutes after I got into my 
house.” 

The greater part of the audience was composed of 
officers home on leave, their sweethearts and wives. It 
was a war play filled with slang and gibes from the 
trenches, all of which were received with delighted 
laughter and applause by those so freshly back from the 
Front. When a simulated shell exploded behind the 
scenes and a woman in the audience screamed, the house 
roared and shook with its appreciation. 

“ What a jolly old war it is! ” said Babe Ballou in my 
ear as the curtain went down on the second act and the 
aisles were filled with thirsty officers wending their way 
to the refreshment stand below stairs. “ Everybody gets 
immensely bucked up when a war is on. Puts them right 
up on their toes, what ! ” 

It was long after midnight when I turned in at Stuart’s 
house in Berkeley Square. I let myself in and found 
my own way to my room. There I discovered my lug- 
gage had been unpacked and put away by Grimes, my 
pyjamas lying neatly folded upon the edge of the turned- 
down bed. 

I spent a few minutes in collecting and repacking cer- 
tain articles that I must send off by express in the morn- 
ing. These would go over to the Front by the Calais 
boat, and should be waiting for me when I reached my 
new aerodrome. 

But one day more in London ! Then I would be back 
again in the midst of a life that for months I had yearned 
for. I dropped off to sleep and dreamed that a German 
jailer was about to shoot me, when I presented him with 
a cheque on Cox and he smilingly permitted me to escape. 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 41 

My last experience at the Front had been that of a pris- 
oner. 

The following afternoon as I was leaving Stuart’s 
house in Berkeley Square, I encountered a fashionably 
dressed elderly gentleman just coming in. He stopped as 
I opened the door, supporting his heavy girth on a gold- 
headed walking stick, gazing at me with a friendly look. 
Beyond him at the curb stood a magnificent motor car, 
a chauffeur in blue livery upon the seat. Knowing the 
strict laws against motoring now in force in England, 
save for government purposes, I judged that this gentle- 
man must be a person of importance in the realm. He 
waited for me and as I descended the steps I felt a de- 
cided distaste for this silk-hatted individual with the 
gold-headed stick, although it was quite evident that he 
was a friend of my host’s, and he appeared pleasantly dis- 
posed toward myself. 

He eyed me intently as I approached, politely bowing 
and lifting his hat as he addressed me. 

“ Good afternoon. I am Dr. Shubrug. Is Mr. Dun- 
can Stuart in ? ” A flicker of resentment must have 
crossed my eyes as I recalled the last occasion that I had 
heard the doctor’s name and the evident annoyance it 
caused my friend, Major Stuart. I saw the visitor’s look 
harden and I hastened to adjust my own countenance. 

“ No, sir. I believe he is out of town,” I replied. 

“ Ah! Not returned to France, I hope? ” 

“ No, sir. I believe not.” Upon general principles I 
determined to be cautious in any information I divulged 
in my answers to this fashionable doctor. 

“ I see you are in the Air Force,” went on the doctor, 
glancing at my uniform and noting my rank; “perhaps 


42 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


you are in Major Stuart’s squadron, Captain. Is it so ? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” I responded. 

“ Ah ! And when do you return to France? ” 

“ Can’t say, sir. We have not received definite orders 
yet.” 

“Ah!” commented the doctor; he frowned as he de- 
bated within himself whether or not to ask me further 
questions. It was plain enough that he did not like my 
reserved attitude toward him and it was equally evident 
that he very much desired to gain some further informa- 
tion from me without appearing to be inquisitive. I de- 
cided tO' help him out of his difficulty. 

“ Can I leave any message for you with Major 
Stuart?” I inquired. “I shall see him as soon as he 
returns.” 

“You are staying here?” he asked, looking at me 
keenly. 

“ Yes, sir. I have just arrived from the States and 
am going to the Front with Major Stuart.” 

“ Ah ! An American ! ” Doctor Shubrug’s tone was 
anything but pleasant. 

Doctor Shubrug took out his watch and glanced at it 
with the professional air of a man who seeks to convey 
the impression that his time is valuable. He replaced 
the watch without digesting the information it contained, 
and brusquely signaling me to follow him, he turned and 
walked to his car. Taking a portfolio from the seat in 
the limousine, he opened it, selected a letter in a sealed 
envelope and handed it to me. 

“ Give this to Major Stuart as soon as he returns,” he 
ordered. “ I can’t come here every day. That will do 
very well, though I desired to have a talk with him.” 


DOCTOR FRANZEL SHUBRUG 


43 


“ You might telephone first and save yourself a jour- 
ney here,” I began. But a harsh look from the doctor 
cut me short. That look was shifty enough to tell me 
what I already suspected, that Duncan Stuart would not 
see Doctor Shubrug voluntarily. 

Placing the letter in my pocket, I watched the doctor 
enter his car and drive away. I little dreamed of the 
importance of this chance meeting with Doctor Shubrug, 
of the curious consequences it was to have upon my fu- 
ture. Thinking only of the sure sympathy I felt for 
Duncan in any unpleasant emergency he might be des- 
tined to suffer with the doctor for an enemy, I made my 
way to Piccadilly and thence to the Trocadero for tea. 

“ There is Adair ! ” I heard shouted through the din, 
from a table near the wall. “ This way, Old Bean ! 
Cheerie-0 ! ” 

I made out the grinning faces of Taffy, Babe Ballou, 
Feet, and several others I knew, together with many 
more aviators I did not know, seated together in the 
same part of the room. I was presented to 1 these new 
friends, my British tunic and my membership in Major 
Stuart’s squadron seeming to be magic credentials. Babe 
and Taffy drew me to a seat between them. 

A bond of extraordinary affection binds together these 
soldiers who have flown over the lines of the enemy ; no 
war pilot is ever known to abandon a comrade outnum- 
bered ten to one although certain death could be escaped 
by his retiring alone. Thus the friendships created in 
these flying squadrons is founded upon the strongest ties ; 
those of loyalty, fidelity, self-devotion, self-abnegation 
and self-sacrifice. 

All for one and one for all ! Such was the slogan of 


44 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


the famous squadron led by Duncan Stuart. Sons of 
the noted families of the realm fought and slept with 
humble boys of unknown parentage, all bound to one an- 
other by this matchless emotion. 

Chaff and banter flew across the tables in rapid-fire 
volleys. Each newcomer was greeted with cordial wel- 
come and then was buried beneath a thousand inquiries 
about his squadron, his fellow pilots, his latest spectacu- 
lar exploit. 


CHAPTER IV 


THE MOLE 

SAY, there’s Peter!” exclaimed Babe Ballou, rais- 
ing his voice to a shout to be heard above the 
clamor of the group and the crashing din of the jazz band 
which was hard at work in the opposite comer ; he looked 
beyond me toward the top of the stairs ; turning my head 
I saw a slim, undersized youth in the uniform of a major, 
carefully directing a pair of crutches through the crowd 
about the entrance. 

“ Peter, this way, old thing ! ” called one of the pilots 
at our table. The crippled major looked our way; catch- 
ing the smiles and nods directed at him, he set his 
crutches more vigorously in motion. I looked at the 
decorations on Peter’s breast, at his youthful face, then 
stared with surprise at the major’s insignias on the 
shoulders of SO' young a boy. Babe had gone forward 
to meet him and now stood holding the major’s hands 
in his own. 

“ That is Pete Willerton. Used to be in our squadron. 
He is Duncan Stuart’s cousin. His sister is Mrs. Noris; 
you must go over there for tea some day,” Warren Foote 
whispered in my ear. “ Great little scout Peter is. Got 
forty-nine Huns, then broke both legs playing football on 
the aerodrome one afternoon. Laid him up all winter; 
compound fracture or something frightful like that.” 

“ Is he going back to the Front? ” I asked Feet. 


46 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ No chance. He’s keen to go, but look at him! He 
can’t rest his weight on his legs yet.” 

“ How old is he? ” 

“ Just nineteen! Got all those Huns when he was 
eighteen. Appalling record that! He admits he was 
scared to death every time he went over. Shy as a girl.” 

Peter Willerton was soon seated at our table, and be- 
fore long I had an interesting conversation with this won- 
derful specimen of the English air fighter. As Feet had 
indicated, Peter was diffident and shy. 

We were just getting well acquainted when Captain 
Fallon entered, seated himself across the table, leaned 
forward and boisterously demanded our attention. He 
had just entered the room and now in a manner typical 
of him, was demanding that everybody listen to his story. 

“ Look here, Major, you know about the one and only 
Rocket that is kept hidden down at Southport,” Fallon 
challenged loudly. “ Well, just ask Taffy what he did 
to it this morning. I just got back from there.” 

There was a sudden silence at the table. The Rocket 
was the name given to a new fighting machine recently 
designed by the best aeroplane builders in England; its 
very existence was a carefully guarded secret. Very few 
pilots had seen this new machine ; no details of its motor 
or of its construction had been given out for fear that it 
might reach the ears of the enemy. I had merely heard 
that there was a wonderful machine being built, and had 
been told in strict confidence that it was the fastest thing 
ever flown, but more than this I did not know. 

Captain Fallon leaned closer to us now that he had the 
attention of everybody, and in spite of Taffy’s wrathful 
gestures he began his story. 


THE MOLE 


47 


Taffy Walsh, it appeared, had talked with the pilot who 
had been flying the Rocket, and had determined to go 
down to Southport while home on leave and test it out 
for himself. The C. O. at Southport was an old fighting 
pilot of his acquaintance, named Major Bradford; Fallon 
had learned of Taffy’s intention and had gone along with 
him to have a look at this marvelous machine. 

Taffy had succeeded in persuading Major Bradford to 
let him take the Rocket out for a trial flight, very pleased, 
as Taffy put in, to get his corroboration of its speed and 
climbing ability. 

It was a misty day, low lying clouds hanging over the 
field and considerable wind blowing; but Taffy, being an 
experienced and skillful pilot, had no difficulty in getting 
her away without mishap. 

Between Fallon and Taffy we got the whole story. 
Taffy had been amazed at the performance of the ma- 
chine. Climbing well up above the layer of clouds, he 
played about for an hour, putting the Rocket through her 
paces with ever-increasing wonder and delight. Then at 
last he thought it was time to come down. The ground 
was absolutely obscured by fog and clouds. 

He pulled up just in time to avoid diving headfirst into 
the sea ! He had evidently drifted out to sea in a strong 
wind while he had been up above the clouds. But in 
which direction, he asked himself. He looked about for 
the compass. Then, to use Taffy’s expression, he got the 
wind up his spinal column, when he discovered that the 
Rocket had no compass aboard ! It gave him a clammy 
feeling for a moment. 

Like the experienced airman he was, Taffy sloped 
down to the water and looked at the tops of the waves 


48 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


to ascertain which way the wind was blowing the spray. 
But there was little or no wind on the surface of the sea. 
Whether he was headed toward “ the home of the 
Yanks” or the North Pole, Taffy had absolutely no 
means of finding out. 

For another hour he flew, now in one direction, now in 
another. His speed was well over one hundred and 
thirty miles an hour, his direction purely guess work. 
Every time he dropped down for a view of landscape he 
found nothing but rolling waves. His fuel was nearly 
gone. He was considering the means of keeping afloat 
when he caught a glimpse of green country ahead through 
a hole in the fog. He glided down upon an open field 
on his last pint of gasoline, feeling a relief that can be 
imagined. 

But he had no sooner landed than he received the worst 
shock of the day. In the distance he saw a group of 
German soldiers running toward him. Without hesita- 
tion Taffy struck a match and set fire to the new machine. 
Then he ran like a hare in the opposite direction, pursued 
by shouts and yells but no bullets until he reached a 
high barb wire fence which harpooned the nether por- 
tion of his anatomy as he was trying to scale it. 
There he dangled helplessly until his pursuers overtook 
him. 

We looked at Taffy, then at one another in astonish- 
ment. Taffy sat there among us in the flesh; yet Fallon 
with every indication of truth was depositing him this 
very morning an hundred miles away, inside the German 
lines. Was this some hoax? A look at the crestfallen 
face of Teftwalden Walsh convinced us that it wasn’t. 

“ Scrubby tale that,” commented Feet. “ Get on with 


THE MOLE 49 

it. Did Taffy hop over the fence in a parachute and 
come home? ” 

“ Wait ! ” commanded Fallon gravely. “ Taffy burns 
up the one and only Rocket, and then finds that he has 
landed inside the Prisoner’s Camp about ten miles east of 
the Southport aerodrome! The German soldiers inside 
the fence were all prisoners ! ” 

A shout went up from the table that was heard to the 
end of the room. Taffy began to stutter violently which 
added to the mirth. 

“ How did you get home, Taffy? What did old Brad- 
ford say ? Why didn’t you look about you, you Blighter, 
before you set her afire? Was she entirely destroyed? ” 
were some of the questions hurled at him. 

“ I telephoned Brad and he flew over to get me,” stut- 
tered the unhappy Taffy. “ He flew me back to London. 
The R-R-Rocket’s washed out all right, but somebody 
else would have crashed her up anyway, if I hadn’t.” 

“ And I had to come up by train,” Fallon lamented, 
“ and I didn’t get to fly the Rocket either.” 

Other amusing anecdotes were told, bits of gossip 
about various British aviators in Palestine, in Italy, in 
Egypt and in India were bandied about. Some pushed 
out to keep an appointment, others came in to take their 
places. The conversation grew fast and furious with 
personal incidents and discussions concerning friends that 
I knew nothing about. A casual spectator standing near 
would not have imagined that a war was on, that these 
gay fellows were returning the following day to fly 
through bullets thick as rain. 

“ I should like to see,” Peter Willerton was saying to 
me, “ what armored aeroplanes can do against the men 


50 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


in the trenches. This continual dueling between aero- 
planes is not getting on with the war. We ought to do 
ground straffing. Put on enough thin armor over the 
vital parts of the machine to turn rifle bullets and ma- 
chine gun bullets, and I believe a few aeroplanes might 
keep ground troops down in their dugouts all day long.” 

“ That’s pure swank, Peter,” Babe Ballou commented. 
“ What would the Baron and the Baronettes be doing all 
day long? ” 

“ I noticed the other night,” I said, thinking of the 
stream of machine gun bullets that had issued from the 
tail of the Gotha as she fell in flames above Gravesend, 
“ that the Huns have a new way of mounting a gun on 
their bombers. These Gothas seem to carry a gunner in 
the tail. He lies flat on his stomach and fires downward 
through the floor.” 

“ That so ? ” asked Peter interestedly. “ Good stunt 
that ! The Hun always thinks of these things before we 
do. This Baron von Richtsmann of theirs, who is their 
best — ” 

“ Gentlemen, I propose the health of Baron von 
Richtsmann ! ” interrupted a laughing voice behind us. I 
turned with the others to see who dared make such a 
proposal here; we saw Major Stuart standing at my 
elbow. He had threaded his way through the standing 
crowd to our table unobserved, and evidently had heard 
the last words spoken by Peter. 

“ Up, Gentlemen ! I give you — the Baron ! ” Stuart 
seized the nearest glass and drank it off. 

“ The Baron ! Here’s to the Baron ! ” repeated several 
voices of the All-for-One Squadron, as they drained their 
glasses with much good will. 


THE MOLE 


51 


“ I hope we may both survive the war,” went on 
Major Stuart, unceremoniously pushing Taffy over to 
the next vacant chair and seating himself beside Peter. 
He nodded smilingly to me as he ran his eye over my 
new tunic. “ Good fit, Adair! Splendid! best looking 
uniform you’ve ever worn. 

“ Some day we’ll have the Baron here for a little din- 
ner,” he continued. “ How many here have met the 
Baron? You have, Peter, so have you, Babe; and you, 
Taffy, and Foote. How about you, Fallon? You’re 
the only pilot in my squadron that has not had a go with 
the Baron. Well, he’s a gentleman and a good sport, 
and I hope he lives through the war ! ” 

I was more than a little amazed with this genuine 
sportsmanship of the British aviators. With absolute 
good will they had toasted the famous air fighter of the 
enemy, wishing him all the luck in the world. Baron 
von Richtsmann and his corps of picked aces had never 
been in my sector of the Front; and I had never encoun- 
tered him. But his reputation was well known to me as 
it was to every aviator in the war. He had won more 
victories than had any of his fellows, and it was his boast 
that he never expended useless ammunition in the air. 
A dead shot with, his machine gun, he was equally 
famous for his airmanship; he had a deadly habit of 
suddenly appearing out of a clear sky upon some careless 
victim; usually one short burst of half-a-dozen shots was 
sufficient. His skill was uncanny; his valor and his gal- 
lantry were equally celebrated. Practically every mem- 
ber of his corps was an ace, as the aviator with five vic- 
tories was called. 

“ Remember that long stretch of white road leading 


52 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

out of Amiens toward Arras on our side of the lines ? ” 
inquired Babe, laughing over his recollection ; “ I came 
upon a jolly good show there a morning or two ago. I 
saw a Fokker down below me, flying close to the ground. 
I slid down on him, wondering all the time what he was 
doing there all by himself SO' far in our lines.” 

“ I saw a staff car speeding up the white road toward 
Arras, doing sixty miles an hour; the Fokker was after 
this car and was doing a hundred. I was after the Fok- 
ker doing a hundred and twenty.” 

“ It was our own staff car all right, and a lot of gen- 
erals and red-tab big wigs came tumbling out of it just 
as I came up. Then I saw the Baron’s scarlet nosed ma- 
chine and I knew what I was in for. He had fired one 
burst into the rear of the car that killed a colonel and 
wounded the chauffeur ; the car ran off the road and hit 
a tree, and the generals came pouring out in a hurry.” 

“ The Baron zoomed up and did an Immelman and 
was about to pepper their heels when he saw me coming 
down upon him like a bat out of hell. He climbed for 
more room, then seeing I was alone too, he doubled back 
and let go a rip or two at the generals who were running 
for dear life across a field. I nearly died of laughter to 
see them run. Then, by Jove, the Baron came over the 
trees to meet me. 

“ We circled about for ten minutes not two hundred 
feet above the ground; every time he had an opening he 
pulled away from me to take another pot-shot at the gen- 
erals who were still making for the timber; his bullets 
would kick up the dust about their heels for a few sec- 
onds then he would zoom again to play with me. I never 
saw such stunts as. that Hun flew. 


THE MOLE 


53 


“ Finally he got tired of the sport ; he waved me a 
good-by and went hedge-hopping off into Germany. I 
landed and found the chauffeur in a bad way and the 
colonel a goner. I flew in and had another car sent out 
from headquarters to get the generals. It took all day 
to find them. They swore that a whole squadron of 
Huns had attacked them with a new kind of automobile- 
aeroplane.” 

With other stories about the Baron and his exploits we 
spent an hour or more about the table after Stuart had 
joined us. Before we separated the Major cautioned 
each one of his officers there to be on hand promptly at 
six in the morning at the Eastholt aerodrome. The big 
battle of Arras was on; it was their last night of leave. 

A look of weariness darkened the faces of the pilots 
at this reminder of the days before them; there would be 
no more tea at the Trocadero for weeks to come. Their 
four days’ leave had been spent in frenzied entertain- 
ment ; the time had gone like a flash, and now the uncer- 
tainty of another campaign in France was upon them. 
As for myself, after so many months’ absence from the 
war, I was keenly impatient to be back again. The more 
I had seen of my new comrades of the crack English 
squadron, the more I longed to win a place in their con- 
fidence and esteem. So far they had accepted me as a 
newcomer from the States. I must be tried by their 
sides under all the conditions of risks and peril before I 
would be included in their all-for-one and one-for-all. 

As we were leaving the restaurant I caught sight of a 
head that was familiar to me. A second look and I dis- 
covered that the lieutenant who was looking at me was 
none other than Tommy Rounds, the “ regular bug ” in 


54 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


charge of Colonel Hull’s wireless listening instruments at 
Blackfriars. I never could forget that curiously shaped 
head. Tommy was sitting late at tea, evidently enjoy- 
ing the last moment of the society of the pretty girl at 
his side before returning for the night’s duties on the rim 
of London. 

He rose and shook my hand as we passed him, con- 
gratulating me warmly for our success* in bringing down 
the Gotha. I introduced him to Major Stuart ; he opened 
his eyes wide when he learned that I was going to the 
Front in the morning to join the Independent Fighting 
Squadron. With a word or two I told Stuart of the im- 
portant position held by Lieutenant Rounds in the Home 
Defense. To' my surprise, Stuart looked sharply into 
Tommy’s face for a moment, then began to question him 
in detail about the distant messages he received on his 
disks. 

“ Do you keep all those messages? ” inquired Stuart. 

“ Yes, sir; most of them.” 

“ What do you do with them ? ” 

“ Only a very few are of any importance. We send 
them to Intelligence if they haven’t already got them. 
Some are in code; we work those out if we can; Intelli- 
gence has lots of code keys and I have a few myself.” 

Tommy grinned elfishly up at Stuart, reminding me of 
Colonel Hull’s comment, “ He’s a regular bug at this sort 
of thing.” 

“ Look here,” Stuart said, gripping Tommy by the arm 
and speaking crisply into his ear, " I want to have a pri- 
vate chat with you about this, next time I come back ; you 
are just the man I want to help me in a little matter. 
Can’t tell you about it now, except this: do you ever 


THE MOLE 55 

get any messages from Germany containing the word 
‘ Mole ’ ? ” 

“ The what? ” demanded Tommy. 

“ The Mole ! Mole River, — you know — down in Sus- 
sex!” 

Tommy shook his head slowly as he held his eyes on 
Stuart’s. 

“ Do you get any queer ones that seem to be addressed 
to some one here in England ? ” 

Tommy gazed intently at the floor as though he 
had suddenly discovered something of interest there. 
“ Sometimes we do get funny ones,” he replied. 

“ Look here,” Stuart insisted, “ I haven’t time to take 
this on now, but you bear those funny ones in mind until 
I see you again, will you? I want to get your help. 
Good-by.” 

“ Good-by,” returned Tommy to us both. “ Oh, I 
say,” he called after us, “ take my private call and my 
wave length, will you? Give me a call now and then, 
I will get it in ten minutes, no matter where I am.” 

Having no other paper in my pocket, I gave Tommy 
my new cheque book on Cox and he wrote his call out 
on the back of the last cheque. 

“ Well, Cheerie-O,” said Tommy, and he shook hands 
with both of us at parting. “ Look out for the Baron.” 

As Major Stuart and I walked up Oxford Street on 
our way to Berkeley Square, I recollected the meeting I 
had had with Doctor Shubrug and I gave him the doc- 
tor’s letter, telling him the circumstances under which it 
had been given to me. 

Stuart stopped short: After an extraordinarily long 
silence during which he looked fixedly at me without 


56 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


moving, he took the letter in his hand and without look- 
ing at it, began walking slowly along in deep meditation. 
I did not interrupt his thoughts but walked along at his 
side. At last Stuart startled me by saying abruptly: — 
“ Shubrug? By Jove, it is incredible ! ” 

I wondered whether he was alluding to my meeting 
with the doctor or whether he was considering some 
deeper matter. I made no reply : we had turned off Ox- 
ford Street into a quieter street before he spoke again. 

“ Adair ! ” he began, “ that doctor is the most danger- 
ous man in England ! He is a German by birth and he 
still keeps his German connections. He is a fashionable 
doctor, if you get what I mean; everybody who' is any- 
body here in London goes to him. From the Prime Min- 
ister down, he is all the rage : even my own father thinks 
he is the best physician in England. 

“ He is the best paid physician, no doubt of that; and 
he may be the best there is for all I know ; but I do know 
that he gets military secrets from these officials here, and 
he gives them to the enemy! I know that is the fact; 
yet the officials here laugh at me. That is what I was 
talking to that wireless chap, Tommy, about. Doctor 
Shubrug gets messages from Germany and he knows that 
I know it. He has tried to make friends with me ever 
since I charged him to his face with treason.” 

“ Treason! ” I echoed; “ are you sure? ” 

“ I am sure,” Stuart answered grimly. 

“About two months ago,” he continued, his eyes on 
the pavement and his shoulder rubbing mine, “ I flew 
home from France late one afternoon. It was a cold, 
wet day in February and I had to get in by four o’clock 
or else land in the dark. 


THE MOLE 


57 

“ I was coming unusually high over the Channel to get 
above the clouds and fog, and I was tearing along, all 
out. Suddenly I saw another machine ahead of me, 
going the same way ; I was overtaking him pretty rapidly. 
Before we reached England, I discovered that this fel- 
low was flying an S. E. 5, the same as mine, and for a 
minute or two I felt sure that it was one of my pilots. 
It looked like — it looked like Larry Fallon’s machine. 
You know Captain Fallon. Fallon had gone on leave 
the day before. But it wasn’t Fallon as I discovered 
when I got alongside. 

“ I looked this chap over, trying to make out who he 
was; the machine had no squadron markings on it, and 
I didn’t recognize the pilot. I waved to him and he 
waved back. And then he began to act queerly ; he kept 
drawing away from me toward the south, instead of 
keeping on toward London. 

“ We were about over Folkstone then. I throttled 
down and let him get ahead of me, then I came up on his 
left. He began to edge away again to* the north until 
I felt morally certain that he wasn’t any too pleased to 
have my company. I thought at first he was a green 
ferry pilot, bound for Ayer; but when he continued on 
north of the Ayer direction, I began to be curious about 
him. 

“ It was getting dark down below, and I had decided 
to push on for Eastholt, when I saw the stranger stick- 
ing his nose down to get into the clouds. I decided I 
would see the thing through ; I waited until he was hidden 
in the clouds, then I turned back and went in on his tail, 
a mile or so behind him. 

“ When I broke through the lower clouds, I found I 


58 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


was above the densest woods in that part of England; 
it was the Sussex forest that every pilot tries to avoid 
unless he is ten thousand feet up. It was almost dark 
and I had lost my friend entirely; it was dark enough 
for lights to be on in the houses I saw in the distance, 
but up at two thousand feet there was still enough day- 
light to see a good distance in the sky. I turned back to 
the west in a diagonal course toward Eastholt. I had 
lost the other S. E. 5 entirely. 

“ I had given the chap up, and had practically forgotten 
all about him, when I suddenly flew directly over a clear- 
ing in the forest; there along one end of a field I saw a 
row of lights set out on the ground. It was so evidently 
a landing field for aeroplanes, I cut off my motor and 
spiraled down to get a closer view of the spot. Along 
the western side of the field was a small stream, which 
I knew must be the Mole river; up the river seven or 
eight miles away, I could see the lights of Ramsden; 
here, in the midst of this great woods, was a landing field 
that I had never known existed ! 

“ I had been looking so closely at the field that I quite 
forgot this strange S. E. 5 until suddenly I caught a 
glimpse of a shadowy streak below me in the dusk, 
headed straight for the field. Without hesitating a mo- 
ment I put my machine down in a wide circle, and with- 
out starting my motor again I slid in over the tops of 
the trees and dropped down for a long glide across the 
field toward the row of lights. I got down all right, but 
found that I would have to taxi along for some little 
distance to reach the end; so I buzzed up the propeller, 
and keeping a good lookout ahead, I bumped slowly along 
toward the lights. 


THE MOLE 


59 


“ Things began to happen very suddenly. I could just 
make out the aeroplane ahead of me when I struck the 
ground. He was taxying slowly along a hundred yards 
ahead of me. Then he evidently heard me buzz up my 
motor, for the next thing I knew, the machine was going 
full out, trying to take off. 

“ The idiot didn’t have room to get out. He at- 
tempted to turn to the left in a climbing bank to get over 
a row of willow trees that lined the river. I heard a 
crash in the trees; his motor stopped dead; a moment 
later the aeroplane and pilot hit the ground with a jolly 
good smash. 

“ I was standing over the wreck in another minute. 
I pulled the poor devil out of the mess and rolled him 
over on his back; he was quite dead. I struck a match 
and looked him over. He was nobody I had ever seen 
before. I went through his pockets and the first thing 
I found was an envelope addressed to 4 The Mole.’ It 
was sealed, but I tore it open to get some clue to the 
identity of the chap. Then I understood. I saw why 
this bird wanted to avoid me. 

“ The sheet of paper enclosed was in code hieroglyphics, 
no signature, no address, no names mentioned, but the 
whole thing unmistakably German. The dead pilot had 
flown into England in a captured S. E. 5 on this rainy 
afternoon, just before dark, to deliver this message. No 
wonder he didn’t care’ for my company ! 

“ I hesitated a little, not knowing what I should do 
under the circumstances. I confess I was a bit dazed by 
my discovery. Then I recalled the landing lights, and 
the significance of this secluded field hidden in the forest. 
This call was expected and the ground on which I had 


60 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


landed was under the control of an enemy and a traitor. 

“ I dropped the body where it was, and hurried back to 
my own machine. Half way back I encountered a man 
coming toward me in the dusk. We saw each other at 
the same instant. Imagine my astonishment when I 
recognized Doctor Shubrug! And imagine his look 
when he recognized me! For the first word he said to 
me, before he saw who I was, was in German. He asked 
if I were hurt ! ” 

Stuart and I had walked completely around Berkeley 
Square while he was making this recital of the remark- 
able discovery of the doctor’s perfidy. There could be 
no mistaking the truth of his convictions. He spoke 
rapidly, wrathfully, with a ring of sincerity in his voice 
that could leave no> doubt of the truth of every word of 
his story. 

Now we stood again at the large double gate of grilled 
iron that opened into Stuart’s yard. He dropped his 
voice still lower as he held his hand on my sleeve and 
continued : — 

“To make a long story short, I got away with rather 
a lame excuse, leaving him to his own speculations as to 
how much I knew. I flew in to Eastholt, drove in to 
town and late that night I gave that code letter into the 
hands of Colonel Derry, the head of our Intelligence 
Bureau. I described to him exactly how the letter came 
into my hands, giving him the whole story as I have 
given it to you. I told him where Doctor Shubrug’s 
place was, on the Mole, below Ramsden, I told him about 
the dead pilot and just where the crashed machine lay. 

“ Two days later I was sent for and got snubbed for 
my pains. There was no crashed machine there, no dead 


THE MOLE 


61 


Hun pilot. A machine never had landed there, and I 
was reprimanded for stating my suspicions about the 
doctor without some corroboration. They very chari- 
tably suggested that I had become confused by the dark- 
ness and imagined things that I did not know.” 

“ But the code letter ! ” 

“ Ah ! Exactly ; the code letter ! The code letter was 
read to me after it was decoded by Intelligence. The 
doctor’s name did not appear in it, of course. As a 
matter of fact, it was about some railways in India, and 
I cannot say that it was especially incriminating. It was 
addressed to ‘ The Mole ’ and Doctor Shubrug’s place is 
called 4 Beechwood.’ Colonel Derry censured me for ac- 
cusing the doctor of treason because a letter from heaven 
knows where came into my hands from an unknown mes- 
senger. They promised to look further into that ! ” 

“ And you have talked with the doctor since? ” I asked 
Stuart, the tone of my inquiry indicating my entire be- 
lief in his story. “ You charged him with treason? ” 

“ To his face. He had the effrontery to call here to 
see me before I returned to the Front, that same week. 
His visit to me proved his guilt. He really came to find 
out how much I knew. He cross-examined me to find out 
where I had first seen his messenger, trying to discover 
whether I had followed him all the way from behind the 
German lines. 

“ He stuck to it that he did not know that another ma- 
chine had crashed there in his willows that night! He 
denied that any lights had been set out in his spinney! 
He denied knowledge of any letter coming to him by 
aeroplane! He denied that he had spoken to me in Ger- 
man there in the darkness ! 


62 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ I told him he was a liar and a traitor ; and I had 
Grimes put him out of the house. That was two months 
ago. I have refused to see him since, but he has called 
every time I have been home on leave; yesterday, when 
you were there — to-day, when he gave you this letter. 

“ Well, that for that ! ”, ended my host, as we walked 
up the steps to his front door. “ I would like to know 
who it is that is protecting him here; one of his political 
patients in the War Office, no doubt. He ought to be 
interned if only because he has a brother now living in 
Germany — and he is a naturalized citizen himself.” 

We separated at the stairs, I hurried up to my room 
and completed my packing, putting the few remaining 
light articles into my flying kit to go to the Front in my 
aeroplane; my heavy luggage had gone by express this 
morning. Stuart was for sending his flying kit and mine 
out to Eastholt immediately; for this was our last night 
in London and it was to be celebrated by a theater party 
and supper at Babe Ballou’s club. 

But as we entered the club in Piccadilly that night we 
were greeted with very startling news: The great Brit- 
ish advance about Arras had begun this day. From 
Loos, south forty-five miles to St. Quentin, the British 
had pressed forward in their long-planned attack. 
Everything was going splendidly, unprecedented victories 
were rumored and great quantities of guns, munitions 
and prisoners had been taken. 

The wildest rumors were afloat. Vimy Ridge, that 
had cost so many French lives last year, had been cap- 
tured by the Canadians, and held. All along the line of 
attack the reports seemed to be favorable. 

The British Air Force, too, had been commended for 


THE MOLE 


63 


gallant work. Forty-eight enemy machines had been 
shot down this day, and we had taken some seventeen 
hundred photographs of enemy positions, which had 
greatly aided our infantry in their advance; we had lost 
twenty-eight machines of our own. 

Such stirring news coming to us on the very eve of 
our departure for the Front, filled us with excitement, 
longing and regret, as may be imagined. There was no 
question of sleep after that. All London stayed awake 
that night, and the clubs hummed with rejoicing and 
revelry. 


CHAPTER V 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 

L IKE sailors ashore we made a night of it, that last 
night of leave. As Babe remarked, “ It might be 
our last breakfast in London, together,” and so we made 
a running breakfast of it, lasting from midnight at his 
Club until the six o’clock morning cup of coffee at the 
Eastholt mess, just before we took off. 

There were six of us to get off together. Taffy and 
Foote had their own fighting machines — machines with 
bright blue noses — in which they had flown over to 
Eastholt from the Front four days before. Babe Ballou 
had waiting for him the two-seater Bristol Fighter in 
which he had attempted to bring back the body of poor 
Sykes. On the way over, in some inexplicable manner, 
the body had fallen out. But that is a long story. Fly- 
ing back with Babe this morning in the Bristol was Cap- 
tain Wee Willie Douglas. Fallon, the Monk, had not 
appeared and so we were forced to take off without him. 
This bland disdain of orders was typical of Captain 
Fallon and I saw by the look on Major Stuart’s face that 
he was furious. 

Notwithstanding the very early hour of departure, I 
noticed growing crowds of cadets gathering about the 
hangars, streaming by in groups to get a closer view of 
the Aces of the Independent Fighting Squadron. Now 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


65 


and then I would hear excited ejaculations as one of these 
knowing youngsters pointed out Major Stuart to his fel- 
lows, or designated the wooden leg of Captain Foote, 
which identification mark was easily distinguishable, ow- 
ing to the bulging of his right knee. Word had gone out 
that several pilots of this squadron were to return to the 
Front early this morning, and these youngsters had 
turned out en masse to get a look at their several heroes, 
as they worked over their aeroplanes. 

No mention had been made of my machine, beyond 
Stuart’s chance remark that there would be one waiting 
for me. He was busy conferring with the C. O. of the 
field, while I stood by waiting for instructions. The 
others of our party were seated in their machines, warm- 
ing up their motors, finishing their last hurried prepa- 
rations for departure. The curious cadets, most of whom 
were just learning to fly, gathered closely around, regard- 
ing every movement and gesture with awesome admira- 
tion. 

Major Stuart saluted the Eastholt commanding officer 
and turning on his heel, gave the three machines the sig- 
nal to go. Taffy opened his throttle so suddenly that his 
aeroplane began to move before the two mechanics had 
released the tail. Foote followed instantly after him, 
while Babe with characteristic foolhardiness, gave his 
Rolls Royce motor all the gasoline it could consume, and 
with a series of gigantic hops, he zoomed the Bristol up 
from the ground before either of the others were away; 
then pivoting about on the tip of his left wing, Babe came 
thundering back directly into the faces of the standing 
crowd. Scarcely three feet above the sod the Bristol 
flew, and as it neared us a series of sudden swirvings 


66 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and slippings in its course put our hearts in our throats. 
A wholesale extermination of us all depended merely 
upon the sanity of the pilot. The wall of cadets quaked 
and quailed as he approached, then, quite too late, broke 
and fled in terror. But at the last instant, Babe lifted 
her up, blowing off our caps as he passed, and zoomed 
roaring over our heads, turning a moment later to rub 
his wheels along the ridge pole of the nearest hangar to 
set them both spinning. 

“ We will walk down to that last hangar, Adair,” said 
Major Stuart, “ and there I have a little surprise for 
you. 

“ I wanted to get those fellows away first,” Stuart 
went on, “ to avoid discussion and delay. They’ve let 
me have two new Rockets, just tested, and you and I will 
fly them over.” 

“ Rockets,” I repeated. “ This is too good to be true ! 
I was told that Taffy Walsh burned up the one and only 
Rocket ! ” 

“ One gets told many curious things, observed Stuart, 
drily. 

“ We shall be equipped throughout with Rockets, be- 
fore the end of the month. Have you flown it? ” 

“ No.” 

“ Pretty light on the take-off. Lands beautifully. Ex- 
pect Fritz won’t like it. It outdoes the Fokker every 
way.” 

“ I tested the controls carefully while the motor was 
warming up. There was beauty of workmanship in 
the Rocket to thrill a pilot’s soul. The set of the 
wings and the poise of' the body looked perfect. Climb 
was there and great strength ; a nicety of balance guaran- 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


67 


teed extraordinary maneuverability; above all, there was 
an outlook from the pilot’s seat better than that of any 
other aeroplane I had ever seen. My head came exactly 
on a level with the top wing. A mere glance of the eye 
and I could see above as well as below. The only “ blind 
spot ” from the pilot’s seat in the Rocket was directly be- 
neath and behind his seat. A small pair of rapid fire 
guns, with an endless belt of cartridges attached, pointed 
downward through a long slot in the floor beneath my 
feet. This could be used for straffing the ground while 
flying level above it. Two additional guns were fas- 
tened solidly alongside the cowling of the engine pointing 
dead ahead. These were sighted by pointing the aero- 
plane itself. The guns were lined up to fit the sights on 
a level with my eyes. 

As soon as Stuart moved away down the field, I sig- 
naled the mechanics to remove the blocks from my 
wheels, and feeding in the petrol slowly, the Rocket lifted 
her tail and sped daintily after him. I watched him take 
off, noting the distance he ran before lifting her head, 
noting particularly the lateral control that had to be ex- 
erted the moment he gained the freedom of the air. 
Then giving her the gun, I felt a thrill as I realized the 
power of the Rocket’s motor. Straight as an arrow she 
flew, quick as a trigger was her control. I left the 
ground with a rush so steep that it appalled yet delighted 
me, so much reserve power appeared to be there for the 
asking. Giving her more and more petrol, I felt her 
speed increase even as I increased her angle of climb. 
Light as a feather, the Rocket was nevertheless perfectly 
balanced. I continued pointing her nose upward and 
feeding in the gas, until I was lying flat upon my back. 


68 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


The little craft was pulling herself almost perpendicu- 
larly upward ! 

No sportsman ever exulted over the perfection of 
horseflesh as I exulted over the marvelous performance 
of this mystery aircraft! The sky was heavy, a ground 
mist covered the land. I suddenly shot through the 
clouds and emerged into bright fresh sunshine at eight 
thousand feet. Stuart was not in sight. Easing her off 
at nine thousand feet, I side-slipped and spun, looped and 
zoomed, rolled and reversed, putting my little craft 
through her paces with ever-increasing admiration and 
wonder. No fighting airman ever was mounted so well 
as I; nor was any so enthusiastically satisfied with his 
mount. The Rocket could out-climb, out-dive, out-fly, 
and outmaneuver any flying machine that ever had ap- 
peared at the Front. 

Major Stuart soon appeared in the sunshine far ahead. 
I hastened after him and half an hour later we descended 
through the flooring of clouds over France and searched 
about for landmarks. We soon picked up what I later 
learned to be St. Omer, and setting a course southeast 
over territory unfamiliar to me, but quite well known to 
Major Stuart, we were soon spiraling down above a long 
and narrow field a few miles this side of Bethune. The 
lines were six miles ahead. Several canvas topped han- 
gars lined the east end of the field, well hidden from 
night bombers by trees. I studied the landscape while 
Stuart was making his landing, noting in my mind every 
conspicuous point of woods and every road that would 
serve to locate me when alone. Then I circled the field 
at low altitude, discovered the direction of the wind from 
the aerodrome sock on the roof of a building and cutting 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


69 


off my motor, put my nose into the wind and landed. 

As soon as the noise of my motor subsided, I was in- 
deed aware of our position. The field on which we had 
landed was immediately on a line with the British heavies. 
From each side came the steady crump, crump, of their 
firing, mingling with the din of more distant thundering. 
We had come in from the rear and had not caught a sight 
of the lines. I had never before flown so far north 
along this Front, although more than a year ago I had 
spent two months with my squadron fifty miles south in 
the vicinity of Soissons. 

The noise of the guns, after so many months’ absence 
from the war, thrilled me with a fierce joy. The rest- 
lessness that had accumulated during these past months 
of inaction, set my brain on fire, made my muscles tingle. 
The very smell of the oil and gasolene brought back 
vividly the excitement of the chase. I was again to see 
beneath my wings the greatest war of the world. No 
romance of old time wars ever could have rivaled this. 
In olden days man did not fly. A free-lance of those 
days did not course from one end of the battle to the 
other in an hour ! 

I sat in my seat on the Bethune field, listening to the 
faraway noises of battle with mad longing in my veins. 
Here was a new front to see. Despite my experience, I 
was a newcomer here, and my companions were all my 
superiors. The leading stars of the whole British front 
were assembled together here tq form one matchless unit. 
No matter how humble a place they might give to me, it 
was a great honor to be one of them. 

Taffy and Foote were there before us ; they had flown 
low over the Channel in a direct line. Babe sailed in a 


70 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


moment later, his companion, Wee Willie Douglas, in 
anything but an amiable frame of mind. 

“You’re a bloddy phule, Babe!” exclaimed Douglas, 
as he leaped to the ground, glaring at his pilot with 
malevolence in his dark face. “ Ye’ll go by yourself 
next time.” 

“ What’s the matter, Doug? ” inquired Foote. 

“ Matter ! He tried to land on a transport crowded 
with troops coming over. They were scared ’til they 
almost jumped over the side.” 

Babe laughed. “ Why, Doug, that’s good practice. 
Some time you might have to land on a ship; and then 
where would you be without practice? ” 

“ You’ll practice without me in the future,” retorted 
Douglas glumly. He picked his flying kit out of its re- 
ceptacle and walked sullenly away. Babe, nothing 
daunted, cried out cheerily to Captain Britson, Opera- 
tions Officer and second in command : 

“ How’s the jolly old war, Brit? Any Fritzies left? ” 
Captain Britson, who was going on his four days’ leave 
to Blighty in the afternoon, grinned happily at Babe as 
he replied : “ Got eight yesterday morning and four 

last night. One was Herr Lieutenant Bluker who claims 
twenty-four victories. The Baron was very peeved.” 

“ Anybody gone West ? ” 

“ Phillips, and — my brother.” 

“ Sorry, old boy — How was it ? ” 

“ Charley and Phillips were shot down in the same 
show. Back of Caudry last night. Little was with 
them. He reported that both went down out of control, 
probably killed.” 

“ In flames ? ” 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


71 


“ No. The Baron got them both. They got Bluker 
at the same time.” 

“ Big show was put on yesterday, what? ” 

“ Tremendous.” 

“ Going well ? ” 

" Right-O. Flying through snow squalls all yesterday. 
Cawn’t see a blooming thing.” 

“ Then why didn’t you stay at home and play bridge ? ” 

“ The G. O. C. wanted a million photographs taken. 
Our bombers took over eight tons of bombs and dropped 
them. We had a big day.” 

“ Did the Baron get any of your bombs ? ” 

“Ra-ther! We got a direct hit on his mess. They 
were simply furious.” Britson smiled joyously. Even 
Major Stuart looked pleased. 

“ We’ve advanced all along,” continued Britson. 
“ We have both sides of the Scarpe River this morning. 
It’s a big show, no mistake. The air was full of Huns 
yesterday, trying to prevent us from taking photographs. 
Beastly weather. We had to fly low to see the ground.” 

“You shot down eight yesterday morning?” inquired 
Stuart, “ and four more last night ? That makes twelve. 
Last night’s communique in London says forty-eight 
enemy aircraft and ten balloons were destroyed. Who 
got the others ? ” 

“ Everybody was out yesterday, sir. Every squadron 
on the Front was out full force. We photographed fifty 
miles back of the lines. We sent out eight flights, begin- 
ning at daybreak.” 

“ Sorry I wasn’t notified,” muttered Stuart with a 
shake of his head. “ Could have come over yesterday 
as well as not.” 


72 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ General Turnbull gave me express orders not to sum- 
mon you, sir. He says we’re to have our regular leaves 
and nothing shall prevent it. But the show is not over 
yet, Major. I have sent everything over this morning, 
to patrol the lines until twelve o’clock. Then we are to 
be ready at five this afternoon for another go at Loos.” 

Major Stuart looked approvingly at his Operations 
without speaking. Then turning on his heel he issued 
several orders tO' his Adjutant and Sergeant Mechanic, 
and started away for Headquarters. He turned after he 
had made a dozen paces and called back to Ballou : 

“ Babe, show Captain Adair his quarters. Put him 
in your dugout and help him pick out his batman.” 

Babe saluted and took my arm. We threw our kits 
over our shoulders and trudged off in the direction of the 
woods, passing back of the hangars along a narrow and 
winding duck-walk built up a few inches off the muddy 
ground. Five minutes’ walk brought us up to a row of 
small structures, each one faced with bark from the trees 
and roofed with branches of living leaves. The woods 
grew thick, the trees were high. From the air no sus- 
picion of the existence of these quarters could be aroused. 
Even a photograph from overhead would disclose noth- 
ing of the improvements hidden beneath the trees. 

The duck-walk wound around in semi-circles, from 
one hut to another. It was not wide enough for two to 
walk abreast ; not for a score of paces was it straight in 
length. 

“ What do you think of our Piccadilly, Yank? ” asked 
Babe, happiness mingling with pride in his tone. 

“ Ripping. Who made it? ” 

“ The Huns, last year. Wait until you see the inside. 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


73 


Concrete, every bit of it. Outside it is covered with bark 
and leaves for camouflage. Underneath every hut we 
found a bomb-proof cellar and a passage connecting 
them. One long passage leads out to the aerodrome. 
Here is ours.” 

He led the way to the third hut from the end. Enter- 
ing it, I found four small rooms of equal size, each fur- 
nished with one window, a rug, a washstand and a small 
stove. A long shelf was built into the side of the wall 
and on this shelf lay the bed. Good springs and mattress 
covered this narrow shelf, an abundance of blankets 
neatly folded at the foot. Babe leaned over my bed and 
sliding .back a panel disclosed concrete steps leading 
steeply downward to a cellar. One electric light hung 
over the pillow. Heavy black curtains were rolled up at 
the top of the window. Not another article was in the 
room except one large map of the sector which was 
tacked on the wall near the window. 

“ Better get acquainted with those stairs,” advised 
Babe. “ They’re steep and sometimes you go down in a 
hurry. The Huns built this place and they know we’re 
here. They come over frequently on moonlight nights 
to keep us awake with their bombs. 

“ This was poor Charley Britson’s room. He won’t 
need it any more. By the by, I’ll tear up his I. O. U.’s. 
I won’t need those any more either.” He pulled a box 
from under his bed-shelf, unlocked it, and after a bit of 
rummaging about he stood up with a number of slips of 
paper in his fingers. 

“ Bridge winnings,” grinned Babe. “ These beggars 
never have any cash. Not much use keeping the 
Blighter’s I. O. U.’s for they all go West before they 


74 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


settle ’em. Here’s C. B.’s twelve shillings and sixpence. 
Here’s another twenty-six and ten. Here’s a stack of 
C. B.’s. All Charley’s, every one; the nervy little beg- 
gar! There must be thirty pounds here he’s stuck me 
with. Well, here goes ! Priceless fellow too was 
Charley.” 

Thus speaking Captain Ballou tore the slips in half and 
again in half, opened the stove and dropped them in. 

“Peace to his ashes,” he sighed. “If the Blighter gets 
back after this' I am ruined. You don’t think he’ll turn 
up, do you ? ” asked Babe suddenly, turning upon me with 
a suddenness that made me start. 

I could not help laughing at his tardy dismay, and the 
rueful look with which he peered into the depth of the 
little stove. 

“ I hope so,” said I, “ he may have been shamming.” 

“ By Jove, I hope so too,” replied Babe with genuine 
emotion. “ Most priceless, top-hole fellow in the mess 
was Charley.” 

A visit to Kipworth the Adjutant was then urged by 
Babe, in order that I might secure the services of Phil- 
lips’ batman, before Douglas could get him. 

“ You’re in luck if you get Parks,” counciled Babe, as 
we hurried back over the tortuous- duck-walk. “ Phillips 
has him trained to the King’s taste. Oldish chap and all 
that, is Parks. But he can sew and mend, and he’s al- 
ways at your things. Best dressed man in the squadron 
was Phillips. Wee Willie wouldn’t know what to do 
with Parks if he had him.” 

Parks was duly assigned to me by the Adjutant, and 
I turned over to him my traps, which had already arrived 
by swift express from England. Then there being an 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


75 


hour or two before the noon mess, I hurried down to the 
hangars to look over my mechanics and to get the lay 
of the land. 

The arrival of the two Rockets had created a sensation 
on the aerodrome, both with the pilots and the men. I 
found most of the mechanics on the field grouped about 
the two machines, examining with great interest the lines 
and fittings of the new model. The sergeant ordered 
two of the men to bring out pieces of tarpaulin, when the 
jobs of overhauling were completed. He covered the 
engines and wings with the cloth, then directed that the 
Rockets be run into' the hangar and left at the far end. 

“ Major’s orders, sir,” he said to me in a low voice. 
“They are not to go out until the others arrive. Ferry 
pilots will bring the others over from Coventry, this day 
week.” 

He accompanied me over to another hangar and had 
an S. E. 5 run out into the field for my inspection. 

“ You will find this little boat very clever, sir,” the 
sergeant informed me, petting the fusilage as he spoke. 
“ I had her up myself and she’s a charmer. Would you 
like to try her out once for yourself, sir? ” 

I nodded. Three begrimed - mechanics who were as- 
signed to me looked me over critically as I climbed into 
my seat and tested the controls. Even with the me- 
chanics I was on probation until I had demonstrated my 
fitness for membership in this crack Squadron. 

The aeroplane was, in truth, a remarkably good one 
for its type. Evidently the best machines were sent over 
for the use of Major Stuart’s airmen; and the best me- 
chanics that were procurable were enlisted to take care 
of them. A few short stunts satisfied me as to the 


76 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


strength and ability of the craft, and wishing to spend 
some little time over an examination of her guns and 
ammunition, I came down and landed in front of my 
hangar and soon had the Armament Officer and his 
helper hard at work. We dismounted both guns, took 
them apart and after oiling and testing them, fitted them 
back into their places. I personally examined and fitted 
a thousand cartridges into the chambers, removed them, 
and after wiping and oiling each cartridge, placed them 
carefully in the belt. Machines were constantly rolling 
in from the Front as I worked, but I had no time to make 
acquaintances just then. 

“ You are losing no time, Adair,” said Stuart, coming 
upon me as I was at work. “ Come along and we’ll go 
over to mess.” 

He had a pleased expression on his face as he told me 
briefly the plans for the afternoon. We were ordered to 
cooperate with the Second Army in repulsing a push 
contemplated by the enemy at five o’clock near Loos, on 
the extreme left of their front. Through our Intelli- 
gence Officer we had ascertained the hour and the place 
of this intended attack. Heavy consolidation of enemy 
aircraft was expected and we were to bring in all our 
patrols to rendezvous over La Bassee a few miles north 
of Loos at four-thirty in the afternoon. Major Stuart 
asked me if I was ready to take my place in his forma- 
tion that afternoon, and I eagerly replied that I was. 

“ It will be pretty sharp,” he added. “ Have you tried 
out your machine ? ” 

I assured him that I had. Everything would be in 
readiness in time. I desired to go over the lines for 
a brief visit first, to accustom myself once more to Archy 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


77 


as the anti-aircraft shells are called and to gain some ac- 
quaintance with the country over which we were operat- 
ing. To this he acquiesced. 

The mess hall of the Independent Fighting Squadron 
was a much more pretentious affair on the inside than 
were the sleeping quarters which we occupied. A three- 
room, low structure, the whole front of which looked out 
upon a long covered porch, lay back against the slope 
of a hill. It too was hidden by lofty trees. The build- 
ing was dun-colored, the same inconspicuous hue worn 
by all the other buildings on the aerodrome. From a 
short distance away it looked more like a shed than a 
dwelling. 

The center door opened into the officers’ lounge. As 
Stuart ushered me into this room, the score or more of 
pilots within sprang to their feet and stood at attention. 

The major tossed his hat and stick onto a table, threw 
a glance that was full of pride and affection over the 
smartly dressed officers of his corps, and with a jaunty 
salute that embraced them all said : — 

“ As you were, Gentlemen ! ” 

The stiffened officers relaxed, making way for the 
major before the blazing fire. The great majority of 
these pilots were absolute strangers to me. Babe was 
there and Taffy, and Foote and Douglas. But fully a 
score of others were standing about, most of them eye- 
ing me furtively, reading my decorations and trying to 
place me. As for decorations, every uniform in the 
group bore them. The assemblage resembled a formal 
reception committee, more than it did the ordinary noon- 
day meeting of a squadron for lunch. Every tunic was 
pressed and spotless. Boots were well polished and the 


78 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


general fresh appearance of each officer made me cast 
more than one hasty glance at my own attire. I had 
come straight from the field without changing my clothes 
or boots. Although it was too late for me to retire now, 
I made up my mind that never again would I permit my- 
self to be caught in such a predicament. 

The Major led the way into the adjoining room. It 
was a large square room, containing one long table op- 
posite the door by which we entered. This was the com- 
manding officer’s table. In front three similar tables ran 
lengthwise, with chairs on each side. As I was medi- 
tating over which chair to take, Babe Ballou caught me 
by the arm and took me along with him to the far end 
of the room. Everybody waited until the major was 
seated; then with one motion, the chairs were pulled out 
and we were in a pandemonium of chatter. 

As soon as I was in my place I looked about the walls. 
They were fairly covered with German Maltese crosses, 
souvenirs of the Chase! Some painted on linen fabric, 
some on the wooden sides of what had once been the 
fusilage of German aeroplanes. All were trophies of 
the squadron, all had been taken from enemy machines 
vanquished by members of this mess, German flags and 
several long black and red streamers, which were once 
worn by the flight leaders of German squadrons, adorned 
conspicuous places on the walls. Great colored insignias 
likewise from enemy aeroplanes were posted here and 
there. It was a veritable trophy room of the chase, and 
was already fairly overcrowded. 

Immediately after mess, the major called me to his 
table. He sat at the head table with his Adjutant and 
Operations, the Supply officer and two or three others. 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


79 


To-day he had Colonel Agneau, a guest from Air Head- 
quarters, seated at his right. The major presented me 
to him with the information that I was the only Ameri- 
can in the outfit. 

“ Ah ! An American ! ” ejaculated the colonel, getting 
to his feet and grasping my hand. “ Tell me, what is 
all this rumpus from the States about the twenty thou- 
sand aeroplanes you are sending over here! You don’t 
really mean it, do you? ” 

Colonel Agneau fixed his monocle in his eye and re- 
garded me anxiously. He was a heavy man past the age 
of active flying although he wore the wings of the Royal 
Air Force on the breast of his tunic indicating that he 
was one of the early school of fliers. The red tabs on 
his collar identified him with the Staff. He was indeed 
from the headquarters of the General Officer Command- 
ing in the field. 

“ Mostly newspaper stories, I think, sir,” I replied. 
“We have not begun to manufacture aeroplanes yet in 
the United States.” 

“ What I called you over for, Adair,” interrupted the 
Major, “ was to tell you to wait for me this afternoon. 
I am going over to look at the Loos salient before the big 
show begins. Come along if you like.” 

I thanked him, saluted the colonel, and withdrew. 

The sound of a piano, jingling rhythmically, came 
through the door which opened into the lounge. I walked 
out behind the stragglers. A battered hulk of a piano, 
left by the Germans, stood in one corner of the lounge, 
and seated on an ammunition box before it was the irre- 
pressible Babe Ballou, ripping out the latest songs from 
Leicester Square. Leather covered benches stood 


80 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


against the padded walls, and upon these sprawled a score 
of aces whose names and achievements were known from 
one end of the Front to the other. A group gathered 
about the pianist and broke into the chorus. Cigarettes 
were lighted, some of the pilots chatting together in gay 
humor as they smoked ; others picked up magazines from 
the table, and drawing away from the hubbub, seated 
themselves near the window to read the latest jokes. 

There was no authority, no discipline, no repression of 
spirits here at this after-luncheon gathering of the pilots 
of the Independent Fighting Squadron. I looked them 
over, admiring their coolness and gaiety, envying them 
their close fellowship with one another and wondering 
how soon I would fit in to an intimate place in their 
fraternity. It was a fashionable group even to Douglas 
himself. The tunics were split-tailed and bulged with 
enormous pockets. The roll collar permitted more ease 
and comfort than could be had in the choking high collar 
of the American uniform. Above the graceful pointed 
wings in silver a row of colored ribbons decorated the 
breast of each. Riding breeches of a light fawn color, 
of whipcord material, gave a sporting appearance to the 
uniform. Well polished boots were evidently fresh from 
the hands of their batmen; huge silk handkerchiefs, 
mostly yellow in color, were displayed with the air 
of fashionable dandies at ease in a London drawing- 
room. 

The major entered the lounge and made his way to the 
piano. He seized Babe by the arm, beckoning several 
of the officers, calling them by name to join him. 

“ Come on, you fellows. Give us * The Kaiser/ Babe ! 
Everybody up! Come along, Bob! Falbrook! Little! 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


81 


Stockton! Drop that Punch , Falbrook, and take your 
place! Now, let her go, Babe! ” 

Thus drawing his crowd together Stuart backed out 
of the foreground, leaving his quartette standing by the 
piano. He with the rest of the pilots linked arms in a 
wide semi-circle, executing a swinging side step to the 
time of the music. The words were new to me, reciting 
in glowing terms the affection the singers had for their 
cousin, the Kaiser, who in truth was a cousin of King 
George of England, lamenting the fact that they had not 
seen him “ for the deuce of a time ” ; begging him and 
his airmen to come out and show themselves for old 
times’ sake to the Blue Nose Squadron; informing them 
in direct diction what would happen to them when they 
did. 

Colonel Agneau and I were out of it. The major 
turned his head over his shoulder and smiled at us in- 
quiringly, as he sang; seemingly very proud of the mu- 
sical accomplishments of his braves ; but he made no invi- 
tation to include us in this All-for-One circle. The 
colonel was a rank outsider while I had not yet won my 
spurs in combat by their sides. They had accepted me 
cordially in London, but that sociability had nothing 
to do with this present and more intimate relationship 
which could be established only by my own accomplish- 
ments. 

Colonel Agneau and I continued to be the audience 
for a number of favorite songs of the mess; then sud- 
denly Stuart withdrew from the circle, picked up his cap 
and swagger stick from a table, and throwing me a 
glance, directed me to come with him. The group broke 
up as we left, and by the time we had reached the field, 


82 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

a long line of polished boots was stomping along the 
winding duck-walk behind us. 

“ Have you looked over a map of this sector. Adair? ” 
Stuart inquired kindly as if to indicate he would take me 
in charge and do what he could for me. personally, but 
hoped that I would eventually prove worthy of the time 
he was spending upon my education. 

“ Not since the Somme show in T6.” I replied. 

“ After a flight up and down the lines I will be able to 
locate things.” 

“ To-night you’d better spend an hour or two in 
Operations room, piecing together our picture puzzle 
maps. Gives one a good recollection of isolated spots. 
This is a hilly country, south of La Bassee. The push 
this afternoon is among the trenches ana chalk hills back 
of Loos. It is only a few miles from Vimy Ridge and 
all this sector will be a bloody before night. Both 
sides have their big guns raining shell? along this three 
miles in a steady downpour. That’s what we’re hear- 
ing now. At five o’clock the Be°he come over. They 
want the high ground that we are holding there. We’ll 
go over and take a look at things on both sides. Jolly 
good row those guns are kicking up now, aren’t they ? ” 

The major continued talking to me over his shoulder 
as we walked, single file, along the narrow walk. Un- 
ceremoniously we plunged into the mud with our im- 
maculate boots, recalling to my mind with something of 
a pang, the picture of poor old Parks bending his back 
over my morning boots in his quarters. Before many 
days I was to ignore, like the rest of the pilots, the long 
hours of tasks that we were forced to bring to our patient 
batmen. They were part of the war and had to do their 


GOOD-BY-E-E BLIGHTY! 


83 


bit to keep their officers spotless and fresh for each meal. 
This pride of the officer’s personal appearance, I came to 
find, was one of the salient features of British morale. 
All praise to the humble batmen who do' their share to 
prevent this becoming a dull war ! 

The big guns of the British were redoubling their roar 
to the south of us. More distant sounds came to us of 
the steady barrage of the enemy. All these shells were 
pouring in to the small valley now occupied by the wait- 
ing shock troops — waiting for five o’clock to come and 
end their nervous dread. How I pitied those poor fel- 
lows crouching deep in their mud and filth, waiting for 
their Zero hour ! 

While the mechanics were getting our machines out of 
the hangar, Stuart and I went over the maps. We were 
surprisingly near the top of France. Our field lay al- 
most due west from La Bassee which village was still 
within the enemy’s lines. The Huns had dug themselves 
in around this small town, then striking the old French 
road that runs south, the trenches followed this road on 
to Loos, three miles below. At Loos, where the big push 
was to start at five this afternoon, the highway and the 
trenches ran along between hills of less than a hundred 
feet in height on either side. We held the long hill on 
our side, its number being 53. The enemy held the two 
smaller hills opposite, numbered 54 and 46. A narrow 
valley separated these two smaller hills. Behind the 
hills 53 and 46, hidden within this valley, we knew we 
should discover thousands of German shock troops, ready 
to pour over the top upon the signal, to hurl themselves 
against our forces who were dug in and waiting for 
them, all over the sides and top of hill 53. 


84 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Another three miles down this broad highway, beyond 
Loos, one came to Lens, the great coal center of this 
part of France; then came Vimy Ridge, the pivot of the 
German Front against which the great fight was begun 
yesterday; then another three or four miles on to the 
south, lay the largest city of this vicinity — Arras. 
There the red lines on our map indicating yesterday’s 
trenches began to swing back. Starting from Vimy 
Ridge they continued until they formed a semi-circle 
about the city of Arras, some two miles east from its 
center. All the way south to St. Quentin these lines 
had been moving eastward since yesterday. 

Making a mental note of the streams and the hills, and 
especially of the broad highways which led into Arras 
like the spokes of a wheel into a hub, I told the major 
I was satisfied, and we folded up the maps. 

We climbed into our S. E. 5 ’s and were soon away. 
I was conscious of my bounding pulses as nearing the 
lines I instinctively began the ceaseless scanning of the 
enemy skies for my first glimpse of the famous Baron 
and his cohorts. Over the Front again at last ! 


CHAPTER VI 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 



HE day was dark and bitterly cold for April, heavy 


-*■ clouds still shading the ground, a haze making it 
difficult to see any great distance. From two thousand 
feet elevation, objects on the ground were quite blurred. 
The smoke of many guns clung to the earth, drifting 
slowly southward. Snow lay in every hollow. 

Stuart and I flew wing-and-wing across the lines. 
Watchful batteries recognized us, greeting us with vigor- 
ous bursts of Archy, through which Stuart led me tran- 
quilly. Archibald came as a shock to me, having been 
absent from this violent sort of treatment for so many 
months. To tell the truth, I had been rather anxious to 
go through this baptism of Archy fire alone, rather than 
with any of my new companions, simply because I real- 
ized that I was getting nervous about it. Archy is all 
very well to sneer at, but the fact is, big and dangerous 
shells are being fired directly at one’s aeroplane, and it 
comes like a dubious compliment to know beyond doubt, 
that these shells are intended for no one else in the world 
but just oneself. Colonel Hull had told me they had esti- 
mated that three hundred and seventeen thousand shells 
were fired at aeroplanes for every one brought down — 
a silly waste of ammunition as every pilot knew. But 


86 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


the most callous of imaginations cannot but feel that 
some day that three hundred and seventeen thousandth 
shell would have one’s own name written on it, and that 
it would be a very rude end, when the collision came. 

It was quite impossible for me to ignore these fancies 
as I rode along by Stuart’s side. We were compelled to 
fly low because of the ceiling of clouds. The German 
batteries quickly estimated the height of the clouds, and 
knowing that we were just beneath them, they adjusted 
their fire until Stuart decided it would be wise to escape 
their attention by submerging ourselves completely within 
the brownish mist. A few shots followed us thither, but 
soon we eluded them and after a short interval we once 
more dropped lower to get a view of our surroundings. 

Traveling at the rate of two miles a minute, one gets 
over distances with uncanny quickness. Our aerodrome 
was but fifteen or sixteen miles from the village of Loos. 
This distance I felt we now had covered. I saw Stuart 
searching the ground intently as we came out of our 
cloud. Although the terrain was new to me I immedi- 
ately picked up the broad white road leading south from 
La Bassee, and after a moment’s scrutiny, I discovered 
the long hill, Number 53, opposite which were the two 
smaller hills, both literally covered with zig-zag trenches 
of the enemy. Splashes of dirt and puffs of smoke be- 
trayed the excellent marksmanship of the British gunners, 
who were raining a barrage just over their own trenches, 
covering the enemy territory back to a depth of three 
miles or so. Yet notwithstanding this drenching bar- 
rage, as we descended still lower into this dangerous area, 
we were able to see plainly dense lines of German sol- 
diers crowded into the communication trenches leading 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


87 


around the slopes toward our lines. Deep dugouts had 
been excavated into the side of the slopes away from 
our lines, and these gave more shelter to the enemy shock 
troops. In spite of the destructive fire that rained down 
upon them from our distant guns, the mass below us con- 
tinued crawling forward through their deep trenches, 
pressed along by their officers as swiftly as the narrow- 
ness of the passages would permit. We could see all 
their movements plainly; surely the aviator is the eyes of 
the army ! 

The extreme lowness of the clouds, while affording 
enemy airmen an excellent opportunity for taking us by 
surprise, on the other hand protected us against discovery 
by them from any great distance. We flew south along 
the rear of the enemy’s positions, until we had passed 
Vimy Ridge below Lens; then, turning, we retraced our 
way, skirting the very edge of our barrage some three 
miles within the German lines. Continuing north until 
we had passed La Bassee, we headed for our field without 
having seen a single enemy aeroplane. 

“ Deuced thick, to-day! ” commented the Major, as we 
climbed out of our machines and looked over our wings 
for bullet holes. Several times during our short flight 
I had noticed the men in the trenches firing at us with 
their rifles. Two small holes were discovered in the 
tail of my machine, but a postage stamp-sized piece of 
linen was all that was required to repair these. “ What 
did you see along there of importance, Adair?” con- 
tinued my commanding officer, as we stepped out of our 
flying suits and handed them to our mechanics. 

“ I saw a communication trench crammed with troops 
that would have made a wonderful target for the floor 


88 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


gun in the Rocket,” I replied, addressing Stuart earnestly. 
“ I would give a lot to fly back there over those crowded 
trenches in the Rocket.” 

“ Can’t be done,” said Stuart, shaking his head 
thoughtfully, “ not until next week anyway.” 

“ Think of the row we might kick up there, Stuart ! ” 
I urged impetuously, the possibilities of this floor gun 
flashing upon me with a sudden inspiration. “ Did you 
notice how those beggars stopped when we flew over 
them? Every one of them stuck his gun up in the air 
and took a pot-shot at us. Now, if we had been down 
at fifty feet above their heads, what would they do? 
Just think of how we might interfere with their rush 
over the top at exactly five o’clock! We might tempt 
them until they forgot all their calculations ! ” 

Stuart smiled cordially at my enthusiasm but continued 
to shake his head. “ Too bad,” he said, “ but we can’t 
risk getting one of these Rockets into their hands. Sup- 
pose we were shot down there in their lines! They 
would have the Rocket back on one of their aerodromes 
before morning.” 

“ We can play it safe,” I urged. “ Headed toward 
our lines we can get across even if we are brought down. 
And then, that barrage! There wouldn’t be a scrap of 
the machine left after an hour’s firing.” 

“ It’s a clever idea, Arnold,” replied Stuart, calling me 
by my first name. He appeared to be weakening in his 
position, and I saw that he was intrigued with the idea. 
“ The two machines are in my charge,” he went on after 
a moment’s consideration. “ If I was sure that we could 
avoid making a present of them to the Huns — ” 

"Of course, we might get hit by our own barrage 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


89 


while we were inside their lines,” I suggested, taking the 
opposite side instantly. 

“ That can be avoided by sticking over the front line 
trenches.” 

“ If the British troops could only take advantage of 
the situation and make a counter-attack just at that in- 
stant ! ” I mused. 

Major Stuart shot a look at me. In that look I saw 
both his resolution to adopt my suggestion, and an ex- 
pression of intimacy and affection that warmed my heart. 
He grasped my hand and gave it a squeeze. Linking 
his arm through mine he led me rapidly across the field 
to hi S' operations office, standing under the trees at the 
end of the row of hangars. 

It was then twenty minutes past three. In one hour 
and forty minutes the attack was scheduled to begin. 
Stuart called up on the telephone the headquarters of 
General Turnbull, the General Officer, commanding in 
the field. He asked for Colonel Agneau, but the colonel 
had not yet returned to headquarters. After a moment’s 
consideration he requested General Turnbull himself. 

“ Good afternoon, sir. Major Stuart speaking. — 
Yes, sir, returned this morning. — Thank you, sir. — 
Feeling very fit, indeed, sir. We intend to try a little 
stunt above Loos at five o’clock, sir. I want your con- 
sent to request particular support from our artillery and 
also from the commanding officer of the Suffolks there 
this afternoon. The Suffolk regiment is to bear the 
brunt of the attack, opposite hill 54 and hill 46, I believe, 
sir! — Yes, sir. — I know there is little time, sir, but this 
may be important. — Yes, sir, I will send over a message 
by aeroplane. Thank you, sir.” 


90 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Stuart hung up his receiver and shouted for a stenog- 
rapher. He dictated two messages ; one to the command- 
ing officer of the Suffolk warning him to take advantage 
of the diversion we might cause at five o’clock ; the other 
to the officer commanding the batteries in the nearest 
piece of woods west of Loos. This latter message di- 
rected the battery to be on the watch for the possible fall 
of a fast British plane that would be flying at a low alti- 
tude over the German front line trenches at the zero 
hour; if it fell Stuart requested the battery to direct a 
steady fire upon it where it lay until it was annihilated. 

Major Stuart issued various other orders over his field 
telephone, sending for Captain Douglas and Captain Fal- 
brook to wait upon him at his office immediately. 

In a few minutes both these officers were in the room. 
To Falbrook, Major Stuart gave the two messages with 
explicit directions for their deposit at the proper locali- 
ties. The messages had been signed with the name of 
General Turnbull and stamped from Major Stuart’s 
headquarters. One was to be dropped with streamers 
attached into the trenches of the Suffolk regiment on hill 
53 ; the other was to be similarly dropped in front of the 
battery in the Loos woods. Falbrook was ordered to 
circle about until he was satisfied that both messages had 
been picked up. 

To Douglas, Major Stuart gave brief orders as to the 
operations for the afternoon. He placed Captain Doug- 
las in command of the flight, directing him explicitly as 
to the altitude and length of his patrol, and the extent of 
the sector which his formations were to cover. He was 
not to permit his formation to be broken up, even for the 
most tempting pursuit. His sole duty was to make cer- 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


91 


tain that no enemy aircraft penetrated through the lines 
as far as Hill 53 during the five minutes preceding five 
o’clock. They were to rendezvous over La Bassee at 
four-thirty. 

The Flight Sergeant was summoned, and directed to 
put the two Rockets out onto the field. Extra ammuni- 
tion was to be provided, and a sheet of thin bullet-proof 
armor was to be attached beneath the pilot’s seat. Stuart 
threw me a glance as he gave these orders, as if asking 
if I had anything further to suggest. I noticed the sur- 
prise of the sergeant as he caught the significance of this 
look, and the increased respect with which he regarded 
me after this episode. Major Stuart was evidently treat- 
ing this strange American with uncommon civility ! Not 
until many days later did I discover that of all the per- 
sons on this aerodrome, the major alone knew that I had 
been flying in the war since the very beginning. He had 
divulged this information to nobody, preferring that I 
make my way on my own resources, unaided by himself. 

“ Suppose we are successful,” I began, addressing my- 
self to Stuart respectfully, “ we can see the situation 
there better than the Suffolks can guess it. Wouldn’t it 
be well to let them know with signal-lights — ” 

“ Put in Very Lights and pistols in each machine,” 
directed Stuart. “ Captain Adair and I will be on the 
field in ten minutes to help you with the ammunition. 
Carry on with the men until we come.” 

The sergeant saluted and withdrew. Through the 
open window I could see the pilots assembling about their 
blue-nosed machines on the field. A long line of S. E. 5’s 
squatted on their haunches, not unlike a row of de- 
termined bull-dogs ready to leap upon their prey. 


92 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Got your Cox cheque-book? ” inquired Stuart with a 
smile as he emptied his pockets. “ Leave anything you 
don’t want captured, here in my desk. We’ve only a few 
minutes left.” 

A gold watch, a note-book, several letters including the 
one from Doctor Shubrug, pieces of paper on which 
memoranda had been written, came out of Stuart’s pock- 
ets, some of these latter occasioning more than one wry 
expression on his face as they reminded him of yester- 
day’s engagements in London. As for me, I had noth- 
ing to conceal. I found my cheque-book in my breast 
pocket, and patted it with a foolish feeling of protection, 
as though it would bring me through the coming adven- 
ture unscathed. The only writing it contained was the 
memoranda which Tommy, the radio lieutenant, of Black- 
friars Heath, had politely written down for me — his 
code call and the wave length required for his receivers. 

Two and one-half hours’ fuel was contained in the 
tanks of each Rocket. The weight of this fuel, and the 
enormous number of cartridges which we affixed to the 
belts of each gun, made a heavy load for the little craft. 
The speed of the Rocket, on a level keel, through a still 
air, was something over one hundred and fifty miles an 
hour. Stuart and I had both reckoned upon this unusual 
speed of the Rocket in discounting the chances of a mor- 
tal hit from the ground. One hundred and fifty miles an 
hour, reduced to speed per second, means that we would 
cross a spot on the ground at the rate of over two hiw- 
dred and twenty feet each second. We had both of us 
seen how smoke bullets, fired at us from enemy machine 
guns, invariably came up at us some distance to our rear, 
even when we were flying in slower machines, such as the 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


93 


Spad, or the S. E. 5. In fact, the only bullets that had 
struck us this afternoon were the two that had produced 
the holes in the tail of my S. E. 5. These had been 
aimed some distance ahead of me and had happened to 
catch the very tail of the aeroplane. Two hundred and 
twenty feet a second! Why, it takes a second for a 
rifleman to raise his gun to his shoulder ; it takes another 
second for him to aim, to press the trigger! And in that 
second the aeroplane has gone the distance of a city 
block! 

So we discussed the probable danger to ourselves and 
to our precious little fighting machines as we crossed the 
field to Stuart’s office this afternoon. The additional 
precaution of placing a thin plate of steel under our seats, 
seemed to us ample. Bullets from below would be turned 
by this armor ; we must depend upon the other machines 
of our squadron to keep us unmolested from above. As 
for heavy field gitns, there could be no danger to us from 
these. Their slowness in firing, the impossibility of aim- 
ing them directly upward, the impossibility of timing 
their shells to explode at the low altitude at which we in- 
tended to fly, rendered the use of such guns out of the 
question. In fact, owing to the nature of the attack that 
was coming, the enemy would have nothing in that 
vicinity more deadly to the aeroplane than their ordinary 
machine guns and rifles. 

By four o’clock the intensity of the roar of the guns 
became deafening. Both sides had opened up with every 
thing they had, as the hour for the attack drew near. 
Usually these furtive massed plays of either side became 
disclosed to the other before the zero hour, if not through 
spies or information from aeroplane photographers, then 


94 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


certainly through the artillery preparation that presaged 
their immediate coming. 

At four-twenty Douglas and his machines left the field 
and disappeared in the direction of La Bassee. Stuart 
had not divulged the reason for his remaining behind 
with me, nor as to why he had chosen Captain Douglas 
to take his place in the patrol scheduled for the afternoon. 
We were seen, of course, as we were loading the Rockets 
with our carefully selected ammunition, and doubtless 
much wonderment was occasioned among our pilots as 
to the mission upon which the new machines would be 
used. But as I was discovering, British discipline on the 
field is very different from discipline in the officers’ 
lounge. Fifteen minutes after the squadron’s last ma- 
chine had left us I was in my seat, the twin guns which 
protruded through the floor at my feet were loaded; I 
gave the controls a last trying out for their coming test. 
Needless to say, I was fairly intoxicated with the pent-up 
excitement of the adventure that was now before us. So 
big were the possibilities, that I had not ventured to 
speak of them, even to Stuart. That he appreciated them 
as well was evident. 

It was a quarter before five when we left the ground. 
Many vivid scenes of the war remain to me, glimpses of 
fearful battles ahead and around as they spread out in 
gigantic outlines from high elevations; those immediately 
beneath one’s wings at low elevation, gain in intensity 
what they lack in vastness. Never will I forget the ter- 
rible picture of devastation and ruin that was spread out 
below us this afternoon as we flew south from La Bassee 
and approached the hilly vicinity of Loos. For we 
barely climbed above the trees that bordered our field ; all 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


95 


the way to Hill 53, we flew at less than one hundred feet 
above the mangled surface of the ground. The concen- 
tration of enemy fire upon the immediate rear of our 
lines had continued throughout the previous night and all 
this day. Now suddenly, it had ceased. That tense 
moment had come when with bated breath, men and 
officers fasten their eyes upon their watches and wait 
for the sacrificial hour. I glanced swiftly at my wrist 
watch as my little craft shot me forward across this 
desolation like the bullet from a gun. When near the 
ground the aeroplane’s speed always seems terrific in con- 
trast with the adjacent motionless objects. It lacked 
still ten minutes before the show was to begin. Ten 
minutes! And Stuart’s message to the Suffolks had 
warned them to be ready at five minutes before the hour! 

The incidents of the following few minutes became 
bulked together far too swiftly for me to analyze. Cut- 
ting across the heads of the Suffolks who occupied our 
front line trenches on the slope of Hill 53, I had to zoom 
quickly upward the next instant to avoid a standing tree 
trunk. Again skimming the ground, I flashed across 
the remains of the old road, across the intervening hun- 
dred yards of No Man’s Land that separated it from the 
first trenches of the Germans ; then turning above their 
heads, I directed the Rocket along their trench, twenty 
feet above them, pouring down through the floor of the 
Rocket a continuous fire from the twin guns that raked 
the trench as I flew. 

At my right, upon several occasions as I repeated this 
maneuver, I caught a hasty glimpse of Major Stuart. 
At least, I supposed it must be he, being far too busy 
with my own machine to give any other question more 


96 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


than a thought. The short valley, up and down which 
I was coursing at twenty feet, or so, above the ground, 
was two or three hundred yards wide, on an average. 
Then the ground sloped quite steeply up to my right 
and to my left, one side held by the enemy, the other 
held by our side. Owing to the nature of the slope, 
the trenches communicating with the front line had to 
be made on a slant. They zig-zagged diagonally across 
the faces of the hills, and those of the Germans were 
in places quite above the elevation of my own ma- 
chine. And from these side-hill trenches came forth at 
me a murderous and continuous fire from the enemy 
troops; they stood upright in their desire to get a good 
shot into the enticing target that flashed by them. Ma- 
chine guns rattled like a thousand riveting hammers. 

Immediately below me, it was impossible to aim a shot 
in my direction, so swiftly did I pass the kneeling men. 
Down the length of the first line, and back upon the line 
of the second trench, some thirty yards behind the first, 
I made three round trips before they were fully up, my 
two guns firing a steady stream of bullets, spraying 
down along my course like a hose from a watering cart. 
I could see the consternation and the fury among the 
men below. Rarely had they had so good an opportunity 
to vent their spleen upon an impudent aeroplane over- 
head. Regardless of the snipers from our trenches 
across the valley, unmindful of their officers' oaths as of 
their own safety, these maddened trenchmen at last stood 
upright, firing long bursts in my direction. All of their 
bullets passed some distance behind the tail of the speedy 
little Rocket. As I turned still deeper, to run the length 
of the third line trench, the men in the second and first 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


97 


line trenches stood up with their backs to the British 
lines ; every one of them along the quarter mile concen- 
trated his attention upon me. 

The quarter of a mile was covered like a flash. Ac- 
tually, it took but six seconds’ flying to' cover this dis- 
tance. The reversement which I accomplished on every 
turn with my motor wide open, consisted of a sharp zoom 
up, and to the right; a quick kick of the rudder threw 
my tail about to the rear; sticking down the nose of the 
aeroplane so that a light roll brought me back heading in 
exactly the opposite direction, I resuming firing as soon 
as I had straightened out, steering above the trench and 
continuing along its length until the other end was 
reached. 

The reason for this short shift, up and back, was to stir 
up into a proper frenzy the enemy troops that occupied 
the rather narrow passageway between the two hills on 
their side of the lines. Through this passageway, Stuart 
and I had discovered, earlier that afternoon, great masses 
of shock troops ready to pour forth, upon the signal, 
ready to dash across the hundred yards of No Man’s 
Land and occupy the trenches of the Suffolks and hold 
them until the next wave rolled forward over their heads. 

As I passed for the twentieth time across the opening 
of this little passageway, I noticed Stuart’s Rocket flash 
by on the opposite side of the hills. He, then, was 
adopting the same tactics there; in order to avoid col- 
lision with me, the Major had risked his Rocket some 
three hundred yards deeper inside the enemy’s lines! 
His guns were going and his machine was the target for 
thousands of infuriated shock troops. Never before had 
they enjoyed such good potshooting as this ! 


98 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

A swift detour brought me over the hillside of Num- 
ber 46 upon my next return. There I had the satisfac- 
tion of seeing the rifles disappear as the men threw them- 
selves flat upon their faces as I passed. Their enfilad- 
ing fire was apt to become dangerous, as soon as they 
learned to 1 shoot ahead of me instead of straight at me. 

Ever uppermost in my mind, was the resolution to 
glide across No Man’s Land and crash the Rocket inside 
our own lines, should I be hit, or the Rocket disabled. 
How Stuart was to accomplish this feat, were he killed 
so deep within their territory, caused me some reflection. 
We were, in truth, stirring up the very deuce of a mess 
with the Hun’s morale; the idea of two solitary in- 
dividuals, like Stuart and myself, tempting the shock 
troops of the enemy from their watchfulness at a crucial 
moment like this, filled me with insane laughter. I 
launched the nose of the Rocket still nearer the ground 
as I came back on a northerly trip, ripping a stream of 
bullets from my forward guns directly into a mass of 
huddled soldiers who were preparing to fire at me in a 
volley. 

More than once I had become aware that British shells 
were falling at intervals along the very line of trenches 
over which I was patroling. Dirt would fly up, belching 
debris high into the air, along the hillside of the enemy. 
I felt a vague worry lest some flying debris might strike 
my propeller, breaking it and dropping me without warn- 
ing into the enemy’s hand. 

All this series of exciting emotions seems to be bunched 
together, in the telling, although it takes more time to 
recount these few details than was occupied in their do- 
ing. I had lost all track of the time. My ammunition 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


99 


was getting low, for my bottom guns had been firing al- 
most continuously without a single jam. The empty 
shells which were ejected from the breech failed to drop 
through the hole provided for them, and I realized that 
a great quantity of them were swishing about on the 
floor of the cockpit, under my feet. I could see that the 
entire line of trenches beneath me was occupied with 
men, all of whom were firing at me, their backs turned 
toward our lines. Keeping well back from the front 
line I had the satisfaction of seeing that they were wholly 
intent upon bringing down their flying target, exhibiting 
little concern about the rest of the war. 

Releasing the trigger of my machine guns, I picked up 
the Very pistol from its holder, pointed it over the Suf- 
folks, and let go a red signal. Instantly I saw the Tom- 
mies respond! Streaming across No Man's Land for 
more than a mile in each direction, the British trenches 
vomited out men, their tin hats, like inverted sauce-pans, 
making the scene resemble the passage of a multitude 
of turtles. Over the road, across the intervening space, 
into the first German trench, they poured, before the 
enemy had any inkling of their presence. Still the Ger- 
man second and third lines continued their reckless firing 
at me. Into the second trench, jumped the gallant Suf- 
folks, and on to the third they pressed. Little or no 
opposition was encountered. 

In a frenzy of exultation over the success of our coup, 
I danced the little Rocket like a jumping- jack. I darted 
into the passage between the two German hills, shut off 
my red hot guns, and zoomed and looped for joy. Stuart 
was nowhere to be seen; but he had put the German 
troops behind the hills into confusion indescribable. 


100 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

Their communication trenches were jammed with push- 
ing men, some going forward, some pushing back. Dead 
men were trampled upon, climbed over. Ignoring the 
safety of the trenches, rushing over the shell holes with 
mad energy, the Suffolks came rapidly upon them swarm- 
ing through the passages and over the brows of the hills. 

J I glanced at the face of my watch. It still lacked three 
minutes of five ! The Suffolks had timed their advance 
in strict accordance with Major Stuart’s request, and in- 
stead of standing waiting on the defensive for the ad- 
vance of the Germans they had turned the tables and had 
won almost a bloodless victory. 

It was at this juncture that I discovered the cause of 
Stuart’s withdrawal. I saw an aeroplane in flames fall- 
ing steeply down out of control, to crash violently into 
the trees behind the German lines. Above sailed several 
Fokkers, and engaged with them in fierce combat were 
several S. E. 5 ’s. Clearing my forward guns as I 
climbed toward them, I caught a hurried view of Stuart 
and his Rocket, milling around the center of the fracas, 
each Fokker in the group presenting a nose and body of 
vivid scarlet. This identification mark informed me in- 
stantly of the nature of the work that was ahead. A 
number of the famous Baron’s pilots had succeeded in 
evading our patrol, and Stuart had gone up to engage 
them in order to leave me free to finish the job on the 
front lines. They were at the very edge of the clouds, 
not more than three thousand feet altitude. With every 
nerve in my body stretched for the impact, and burning 
with longing for a victory or two to establish myself in 
the Squadron’s Roll of Honor, I climbed directly for 
them, all thought of the carnage below passing from my 


THE ENTICING TARGETS 


101 


mind. Thoughts flash swiftly across one’s mind in such 
emergencies. I remembered that my ammunition was 
low, particularly for my floor guns. I recalled that my 
elevator control had seemed unstable and weakened the 
last time I had pushed it forward. Probably it had been 
struck by a shot. I thought of Stuart’s injunction that 
upon no provocation whatever was I to venture any dis- 
tance back of the enemy’s lines where the Rocket might 
be captured, if I fell. But there was Stuart ahead of 
me in his Rocket! Surely I could come to his rescue! 
I would hug the front lines, nevertheless. 

A sudden rude jolt staggered me from my seat, throw- 
ing the aeroplane into a convulsive shudder as I cut off 
the motor. I had covered more than half the distance to 
the melee above me in less time than it has taken to tell 
it. Now at a thousand feet, something had struck me. 
And a single glance was sufficient to put my heart in my 
throat. The Rocket was going down like a falling leaf ! 

The right lower wing of the Rocket was broken and 
was lying back against her fusilage, supported only by 
the inside bolt ! One half of her propeller was missing, 
the other half revolving with terrific force and jerking 
horribly! One of our own falling shells had collided, 
in full flight, with my upward motion. It had struck the 
propeller and passed through the spar of the lower wing 
on the right side, practically cutting it clean away ! The 
three hundred and seventeen thousandth shell, with my 
name written on it, had arrived ! 

Mechanically I balanced the aileron as the Rocket 
turned onto her right side, and sticking down her nose, 
I awaited the crash. 


CHAPTER VII 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


HE wind had been blowing from the north that day ; 



it was not a heavy wind, but such as it was I now 
realized that it might mean life or death to me. The 
suddenness of the catastrophe which had come, the con- 
fusion which followed, made me lose a little altitude be- 
fore I could bring my machine under control. Its gait 
at best was decidedly precarious. Flying as flat as pos- 
sible to reduce speed, balancing even with the weight of 
my body, the dreadful list to the right, I managed to 
keep the Rocket out of a spin. After a moment’s calcu- 
lation as to my ability to keep her on her keel, I looked 
about to see where my present course would land me. 
The lines ran north and south, I was gliding south. 

The moving combat overhead toward which I had been 
flying when the falling shell struck me, was now some- 
what back of Lens and quite four miles south of Loos. 
I ventured a quick glance at the melee and saw that they 
were still milling around in circles as they flew, but as 
to how many Fokkers and how many of our S. E. 5’s 
were there I did not have time to ascertain. A glance 
below told me that I was a thousand feet or so in the 
air, and at least two miles inside the German lines. 
Then I scrutinized the drifting smoke of battle beneath 
to find the direction of the wind. It was blowing south, 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


103 


in the same direction I was now headed. There seemed 
hardly a chance that I could make our lines. 

Turning the crippled aeroplane as gingerly as possible, 
I brought her head a trifle to the west, aiming for a white 
highway that ran to the east of Vimy Ridge, which I 
knew to be the main road from Lens to Arras. Vimy 
Ridge had been taken by the Canadians under the gallant 
General Byng, and their lines now extended to a point 
east of this highway, according to the information we 
had just received. With the quartering wind drifting 
me, I had a chance to lengthen out my glide enough to 
hit the ground within the salient now occupied by the 
Canadians, If I turned directly toward the west, I 
should never be able to> reach safety. To take advantage 
of the aid of the wind was my only salvation. 

Nine hundred, eight hundred, down to seven, my alti- 
meter creeped while the white road ahead seemed no 
nearer than before. Below me the shells were thickly 
raining. Now that I no longer had the deafening noise 
of the motor in my ears, I could hear the terrific din of 
the German barrage. The German guns were evidently 
plastering the entire front, from Vimy up to La Bassee. 
And the British guns were replying, firing twenty shots 
to the Germans’ one, both sides timing their shells to 
drop just beyond their own front lines, into the front 
lines of the enemy. Somewhere into the midst of these 
falling shells I and the Rocket must come down ! 

As I continued to near the ground I saw that the 
trenches extended some two hundred yards or more 
nearer to me than I had estimated. And as I glued my 
eyes on the spot where I had expected to land, I dis- 
covered that I had selected an area that was fairly alive 


104 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


with struggling men with ungainly crawling tanks. Evi- 
dently another push had begun here opposite Vimy, or 
perhaps yesterday’s great battle was not yet decided. 
This accounted for the wide extent of the Front that was 
under bombardment to-day. However, my own great 
concern, just now, was for my own safety — and for the 
immediate obliteration of my aeroplane; if I could not 
get it safely within our own lines I must destroy it. The 
prospect below me did not look especially encouraging. 

There was little time for deliberation. The ground 
slipped beneath me with ever-increasing swiftness. I 
might turn deeper within the enemy’s lines to escape the 
thick destructive fire that was plowing up the earth in 
No Man’s Land; it resembled rain rebounding on the 
smooth pavement of an avenue. But in that case I 
would doubtless be taken a prisoner, and the Rocket 
would fall into enemy’s hands. Rather chance a landing 
in the thick of the shell-bursts, set off the bomb beneath 
my seat, and make a dive for the nearest protection. 
For both Stuart and I had taken the precaution of fas- 
tening a twenty-pound bomb of TNT, operated by a de- 
lay-fuse, within the cockpits of our machines, for just 
such an emergency as this. 

Now I could select the approximate spot where the 
crash must come. There was no choice even if I had 
dared to alter the direction of the aeroplane’s course. It 
was necessary to land levelly lest I might be pinned be- 
neath the breakage. I was barely gliding over the 
trenches into No Man’s Land. Barb wire entanglements 
were rolled up in gigantic masses by the shell bursts, and 
these seemed to cover the ground thickly in every direc- 
tion. With a last prayer for good fortune I quickly 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


105 


raised the Rocket, attempted a side slip to the right to 
reduce her speed, then I flattened her out and set her 
down regardless of obstacles. With one hand on the 
clasp of my safety belt, the other braced against the front 
of the cockpit to save my head, I felt the gallant little 
craft strike the side of a shell hole, the tail came quickly 
up and before I could realize it, I was bottom side-up at 
a stand-still. Simultaneously, I slipped the clasp of my 
belt, the weight of my body hurled me violently onward 
into the mud, and without a thought of the necessity of 
setting the fuse in my bomb I picked myself up and ran 
blindly for the British lines. 

Over barb-wire and ditches, through shell holes and 
mud, across the mangled bodies of Germans and British 
alike, I ran like a hare for forty yards, aiming for the 
shelter of an overturned tank in front of me. I dived 
into the tank through a rugged gap in its side. For some 
moments I lay there listening to the beatings of my heart, 
accompanied by the patter of bullets against the upturned 
bottom of the tank. The noise, the awfulness of the 
din, was beyond description. 

I crouched there, determined to remain where I was 
until night came. In my state of panic I would have re- 
mained there for the duration of the war ; I was between 
two fires ; by raising my head I could see the British sol- 
diers in their trenches firing directly over and around 
me; behind me the enemy's bullets spattered against the 
iron sides of the tank, occasionally striking the top where 
they ricocheted over my head, singing hideous notes as 
they flew. 

Suddenly the opening above my head was darkened; 
I heard a cool pleasant voice shout ; — 


106 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Are you all right in there, my lad ? ” 

Lifting my head, I saw the face of an English officer 
looking down at me. He had an amused smile under his 
tawny mustache, a cool look about him that irritated me. 
A British warm coat hid his insignia of rank. 

“ Are you hit ? ” he asked. 

“ No,” I yelled back, “ but I’m staying here until this 
show blows over.” 

“ Better come along with me,” he advised. “ The 
show was over long ago.” 

He was as cool as one can imagine ! He stood at one 
side as I clambered out of the small opening, smiling 
at me quizzically. Beyond him, several men were lying 
prone upon the ground, their heads up against the side 
of the tank for protection. 

“ I brought these fellows out to carry you in,” shouted 
my friend, pointing down to his men. “You’ll do bet- 
ter on your own legs, I fancy.” 

“ Do you see that clay bank, yonder ? ” he inquired, 
pointing slightly to the left through an opening in the 
barb wire; “ we’ll make for that; communication trench! 
All right, men ! ” he shouted to the figures on the ground 
who were eyeing me without enthusiasm from their 
muddy berth at our feet. “ Go back the way we came ! ” 

The Tommies ran the fifty yards without mishap 
while the officer and I stood in the shelter of the tank, 
watching them without speaking. Then he turned and 
made me a signal to follow him. I needed no urging. 

I was at his heels all the way across this frightful 
morass ; bullets were whining about our ears as we 
struggled over a veritable mound of dead bodies heaped 
together in the slimy mud; once or twice the officer 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


107 


looked back at me with an encouraging smile ; he reached 
the bulwark of sandbags, around the edge of which an 
opening led down to the trench; here he stopped dead 
still a moment motioning me to precede him. 

As I passed him, while he paused there for the frac- 
tion of a second, I saw him give a slight shiver. He 
threw his hands to his throat and without uttering a 
word, fell toward me. Instinctively I caught his heavy 
figure in my arms, stooping until his head and chest 
were across my shoulder. Seizing his wrist in my hand 
and making a desperate plunge forward, I gained the 
shelter of the parapet, with the wounded officer hanging 
head down across my chest. Behind me a score of 
others were pressing on my heels. 

How many yards I staggered with this burden before 
I realized that we were out of danger I do not know. 
Finally stopping through sheer exhaustion, I leaned 
against the clay sides of the narrow trench, and spoke 
to him. He did not answer. But wounded men behind 
me did. They cursed me fervently, urging me to get 
out of their way. As I looked down at the officer for 
a glimpse of his face, I saw that I was carrying a dead 
man. While I was feeling his heart an object slid out 
of his pocket and fell at my feet. It struck my knee 
as it fell. Disengaging myself from his heavy weight 
and leaving his lifeless body lying on the firing step of 
the parapet, I picked up the glistening object, discovered 
it was a cigarette case of gold, and thrusting it within 
the pocket of my tunic, I hurried forward through a 
labyrinth of passages, pressed along by those behind me, 
a storm of singing bullets passing over our heads. 

Bareheaded, my flying-suit soaked with water and 


108 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


mud, my face covered with the blood of the officer who 
had died upon my back, I must have presented a. ludi- 
crous appearance as I came to a wider trench and stood 
panting violently before the grinning faces of a trench- 
full of cockneys who were blithely drinking their tea. 
Tea in the front line trenches on such an occasion as 
this ! 

Seated tranquilly on the firing-step, their backs to the 
enemy and their guns leaning against their legs, a long 
line of mud-faced men sipped their tea and eyed me 
with great amusement. No officer seemed tO' be present. 
All about us the horrid din of war continued with fury 
unabated. I staggered to a dry sand bag and sank 
upon it to recover my breath. 

“ You birds ’ave all the fun, don’t you, me lad?” said 
a tall man, who was gulping down his tea from the edge 
of his tin helmet. “ You came in jest too late for tea.” 

“ You made a bit of a hit coming down like you did,” 
he continued ; “ we tried to stop the war for you but 
no use ! ” went on the tall man with great deliberation. 
“ Did you hear us cheering you down? Glad you made 
it. Some of them wanted to rush out to get you, but 
we saw you was all right. Runs like an ostrich, I says 
to myself.” 

“Was that why that group exposed themselves — to 
help me?” I exclaimed with a sudden start of con- 
trition as I thought of the dead officer who had brought 
me in from the tank. “ Do you know that your officer 
was killed as he stood there ? ” 

“ Not my officer a bit,” commented Tommy Atkins. 
“ ’E belongs below ’ere,” motioning a hand toward the 
south. “ ’E was a bloody fool to stand there where 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


109 


Fritz had the range ! “ Why didn’t ’e run instead of 

standing by? ’E’s from the H oxfords below ’ere. They 
are giving the show out front this afternoon. Pretty 
sight if you care to look at it through my periscope.” 

“ Who was that officer ? ” I demanded, beginning to 
get back my wind. 

“ Dunno, my lad. He led the attack and took his boys 
over. They’re in the trenches opposite now and still 
going! We ain’t got nothing to do here any more. 
We’re in the back line.” 

So confused a picture had been spread before me 
that I had not had time to puzzle it out. Evidently the 
Oxfordshire regiment had pressed forward here just as 
the Suffolks had done above Loos. I had landed in 
the nick of time in territory that had just been captured. 
The ground had seemed swarming with men as I struck, 
though how any had lived in that hailstorm of lead I 
could not imagine. I accepted the cockney’s invitation 
and took his periscope for a brief survey forward. The 
Rocket lay with crumpled wings nose downward, in a 
deep hole, her tail standing almost perpendicularly in 
air. She was safe so far as the enemy was concerned, 
but I determined to try to get her in. Machine guns 
were rattling wickedly on both sides, while furious hand- 
to-hand combats were going on in the second and third 
line trenches of the Germans, I yearned for the safety 
of the air again after one glance at the bloody show 
being enacted before me on the ground. 

“ There’s an officer of the Oxfords down there dead,” 
I repeated, as I returned the periscope, pointing backward 
through the communication trench through which I had 
just come. 


110 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Oh, ’e’ll be a’ right where ’e is, me lad,” replied an- 
other of the Tommies, standing in front of me and re- 
garding me critically. “ Was you shook up some w’en 
you hit the ground out there?” indicating No Man's 
Land with the jerk of a black thumb over his shoulder. 
“ Pinked yer cheek a bit, eh ? ” 

I put my hand to my face and drew it down covered 
with warm blood. Amazed at the sight I rose to my 
feet and felt myself over hastily but found nothing 
to indicate that I had been hit. Only my right cheek 
had blood on it and that I concluded had come from 
the breast of the dead officer. I stepped out of my be- 
grimed flying suit and revealed to the Tommies the 
Captain’s pips on my shoulder. Instantly they stood 
at attention, a look of consternation spreading over 
the features of the two men who had greeted me so 
familiarly. 

“ Two of you go back and bring up that officer’s body,” 
I directed sternly, pointing to the two who had spoken 
to me. “ And you,” I ordered, turning to the next, 
" take me to your officer.” 

They obeyed me with alacrity. Leaving my cast-off 
combination suit where it was, I followed my guide 
through a tortuous maze of underground passages until 
he paused before the door of a cellar covered with 
burlap. He saluted me and departed back to his post 
while I pushed back the curtain and entered the room. 
A young lieutenant was seated on the floor drinking his 
tea, three or four other figures standing in the shadows 
engaged in like occupation. The underground chamber 
was lighted and the ground was well covered with boards. 
It was deep enough under the ground to muffle the 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 111 

sounds of the bursting shells outside and render con- 
versation in an ordinary tone fairly audible. 

I found that what I had imagined to be a furious 
contest going on outside was, in fact, with these shock 
troops an ordinary everyday occurrence; a little brisk 
firing just now, perhaps, but nothing to speak of ; an Ox- 
fordshire regiment had gone through the front lines at 
this point; the lieutenant and his men had nothing to 
do but take it easy, keeping an eye out now and then 
on the weather; it was rather suicidal to put one’s head 
over the sandbags, of course, but as for the shells that 
were falling, one did not mind those bally things. 

I told the lieutenant how I had come down upon them 
unexpectedly, how an officer of the Oxfords had come 
to help me and had died in my arms; how anxious I 
was to get my aeroplane brought back to a safe spot 
before she was annihilated by a direct hit. He shook 
his head at this, saying that it would be impossible to 
get her in before dark ; this was a cloudy day, he assured 
me. In half an hour’s time he thought he could get a 
wire fastened to the Rocket; he would be glad to have 
his men haul her in for me. They had never done 
such a thing before, but if I wished it he would send 
what remained of the precious little machine back to the 
rear for me. 

Cautioning him again that if the enemy got possession 
of that especial aeroplane Germany would surely win 
the war, and urging him to see to the dead officer, I left 
him, promising to be back again to look him up one of 
these days. I accepted his offer of a corporal to guide 
me back through the wriggling trenches to the rear. 

It was almost dark when my guide and I reached an 


112 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


outlet where he informed me that I might walk erect. 
In five minutes more I found myself at the adjutant’s 
office. Again explaining my presence, with an expres- 
sion of my fears concerning the recovery of the aero- 
plane from No Man’s Land, I found that I could have 
a motor car to take me home to get the necessary 
mechanics, provided I would return with it before mid- 
night. This offer I gladly accepted; the Adjutant was 
a kindly chap, who fortunately for me had a brother in 
the flying service in Italy. 

The automobile journey back to Bethune was not a 
speedy one. We found ourselves wedged into a line 
of ambulances, lorries, General’s limousines, tanks, ammu- 
nition wagons and tremendously big guns. As there was 
no room for passing, and as the speed of the procession 
was reduced to the speed of the slowest vehicle on the 
road, we bumped along behind a long gun at a snail’s 
pace. On the other side of the road a corresponding 
slow line of army vehicles jammed the way, bound in the 
other direction. 

Not a light appeared in any of the motors, not even 
a cigarette was permitted. We splashed and bumped 
along through the shell holes, now and again halted 
while a big gun was being pried out of a soft spot, or 
an overturned truck was unceremoniously rolled off the 
road into the ditch to clear the way. 

During this slow passage I had an opportunity to read 
the curious signs that had been erected along this road 
to inform these travelers of their danger. 

“ Nach Bethune ! Zum Lens ! ” read one German 
sign, which told the story of the recent wresting of this 
corner crossing from the hands of the enemy. “ This 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


113 


bridge WILL NOT TAKE TANKS!” another sign 
further on informed us. “ What have you salved to- 
day? ” inquired another sign hanging above a junk heap 
of sizable proportions; “ THIS FIELD IS MINED” 
warned another placard at my right, hanging from a 
strand of barbed wire; this wire blocked and cut off a 
dim road which doubtless had tempted some unfortunate 
victim to take a short cut : “ HERE RESTS WITH 
GOD GUNNER SCHMIDT ! ” a wooden shingle an- 
nounced from the top of a hastily constructed mound. 

“ AMMUNITION DUMP ! NO FIRES ! NO 
SMOKING! ” was a huge warning board, behind which 
I saw shells piled up like cordwood, a small space filled 
with sod separating each cord; “ THIS IS WITHIN 
THE SHELLING ZONE! PUT ON YOUR STEEL 
HELMETS ! ” seemed to me a superfluous bit of in- 
formation, since shells had been falling all about us for 
the past half hour; not far beyond it we passed another 
sign, “ PUT ON YOUR GAS MASKS HERE!” 
which alarmed me more than any of the others until 
reflection told me that this sign must have been put up 
a week ago, since which time the danger of gas had 
moved eastward with the Huns who used it. 

Soon we passed a more recent warning which advised 
drivers to avoid raising a dust, as this road was in sight 
of enemy gunners; and then, as we emerged from the 
valley to wind to the west about the foot of a hill, the 
large suspended poster which hung above our heads 
directed: “ NO HEADLIGHTS BEYOND THIS 
POINT ! ” The chauffeur snapped on our lights, as 
we were going in the opposite direction. 

It was half-past seven when I at last reached the Be- 


114 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

thune field. Leaving the chauffeur with the sergeant 
mechanic for supper, I left orders for my mechanics to 
be ready to return to Vimy with me in an hour, and 
securing a flash light from one of them I made my way 
along the tortuous duck-walk to my quarters. 

As Parks was carrying away my muddy things, he 
told me that Babe Ballou and the others had returned 
more than two hours before; for the first time it occurred 
to me that I was somewhat overdue: I was probably 
marked down as missing by Major Stuart and his officers. 
I dressed as hastily as I could. 

Parks turned back at the door, bringing in his hand 
the gold cigarette case that had fallen from the pocket 
of the tunic of the gallant fellow who had come out to 
rescue me from the overturned tank. I had thrust it 
into my pocket when I dropped him into the trench from 
my shoulder; in the excitement of the hour which fol- 
lowed, I had forgotten all about the incident. 

I took it from Parks, examining it under the light. 
It was a very valuable case indeed. It bore the initials 
R. D. in beautifully engraved letters on the outside. 
Opening the case I received a start. One side was filled 
with cigarettes from a well known Bond Street house in 
London. The other held a miniature of the face and 
shoulders of a very beautiful girl. 

I studied the features intently. The girl was Eng- 
lish beyond doubt; her face had breeding, intelligence as 
well as beauty. She was young; the miniature itself 
looked new. Whoever she was, she must be found. I 
determined to place the case in Stuart’s hands, on the 
chance that he, with his wide acquaintance in England, 
might be able to identify her. I felt desperately hungry 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


115 


and knew that I was late, so without further delay I 
pocketed the case and hurried to the mess. 

Little dreaming of the welcome that was to greet me 
at my mess this first night of my stay with the Independ- 
ent Fighting Squadron, I opened the door, placed my cap, 
stick and flash light on a shelf and entered the dining 
room. Every one was at table, a merry hum of voices 
assailing me at the door. Then suddenly, one by one, 
the pilots looked up and recognized me. The talking 
ceased suddenly, then just as I was taking my place, there 
suddenly broke out a terrific din. Dumbfounded, I hesi- 
tated and looked at them closely. Springing to their feet 
all over the room, they crowded toward me, seized me 
and mauled me about, finally hoisting me, struggling, upon 
their shoulders. 

“To the C. O.’s table!” shouted Babe Ballou, who 
with several others held me helplessly dangling in air. 
Others slapped me affectionately as they hauled me along 
to the front table, where Stuart stood with a smile on his 
face, watching the noisy proceedings. I was put into a 
seat at Stuart’s right, but immediately got to my feet 
again, where I stood puzzled and embarrassed over this 
boisterous initiation. Whether it was because of my 
lateness for dinner, or whether this was the customary 
greeting given a newcomer on his first night with the 
squadron, I did not quite understand. 

“ Arnold, you blighter, where did you come from ? ” 
asked my commanding officer, both hands on my 
shoulder. 

“ Below Lens, sir; near Vimy; I crashed there.” 

Stuart’s expression changed. “ Where is the 
Rocket ? ” he demanded. 


116 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


" Quite safe. The Oxfordshires have her. I am go- 
ing back there to-night with my mechanic to get her.” 

“ Great little bus, isn’t she ? ” queried Stuart again, 
giving my shoulder a squeeze. “ Wonderful stunt, that 
of yours to-day, Arnold, wonderful. Thought you’d 
gone west when you didn’t get in.” 

I looked at Stuart inquiringly. 

“ What’s all this row about, Duncan ? ” I asked. 
“ Please let me in on it.” 

“ Why, you priceless old Yank,” interrupted Feet, 
reaching over to grasp my hand, “ you started a new 
fashion for the Fighting Squadron to-day. You cap- 
tured three miles of front, and about a million prisoners, 
you and your bally Rocket.” 

“ What’s that ? ” I gasped. “ What does he mean, 
Stuart? I have just this minute got in; I haven’t heard 
a word about the show we started there at Loos. What 
does he mean ? ” 

“ He means, Arnold, that the Suffolks caught the 
Heinies by surprise! While everybody in the trenches 
had their backs turned plumping bullets at you, the Suf- 
folks carried three miles of the Front about three miles 
deep. Prisoners galore! Guns and supplies! And the 
Squadron gets a citation from the commander-in-chief, 
and you get a decoration. Six villages were taken in- 
cluding Vimy and Ancre.” I sank into my seat weakly, 
while the pilots shook my hands and pressed their con- 
gratulations so warmly that tears soon stood in my eyes. 
Stuart called an orderly who reappeared with glasses and 
several fat bottles. 

“ Take your seats, gentlemen!” Stuart ordered. The 
noisy group broke up, the pilots quickly finding their 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


117 


places. I felt my face burning with embarrassment as 
I caught the significance of this ceremony. Major 
Stuart waited in silence until the last glass was filled. 
He rose to his feet, extended his glass, saying simply : — 

“ Gentlemen, the King ! ” 

As one unit we rose and drank the King’s health. 

“ And now, gentlemen, I propose the health of Captain 
Adair!” added the Major. “I flew by his side to-day 
at Loos, and I give you my word I never saw such fly- 
ing. You know what happened. But you do not know 
that he flew back and forth over that spot forty times 
and was never a hundred feet above the ground. He has 
brought great credit upon this organization, upon the 
first day of his duty with us. I pledge you, Captain 
Adair, and welcome him to the All-for-One Squadron.” 

My gratification, my confusion, may be imagined. 
They roared at me for a speech. I stood up and told 
them about my accident, described the nature of my land- 
ing in the barb wire and shell holes in front of Vimy. 
I told them I intended going back to get the Rocket as 
soon as I had finished dinner, and then I sat down. But 
remembering the incident about the gold cigarette case, I 
drew it from my pocket as I sat down; handing it to 
Stuart, I told him how it had happened to come into my 
possession. 

The cigarette case passed from hand to hand while I 
went on with my dinner. Stuart on my left, described 
their fight that afternoon with a number of the Baron’s 
fellows who had dropped upon Douglas and his forma- 
tion, through the clouds, shooting down poor Cresdon of 
our squadron, who fell to his death. Stuart had has- 
tened up to their succor in his Rocket, believing that it 


118 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


was essential to prevent their disturbing my antics along 
the front line, until I had finished. He had shot down 
one of the Fokkers, and that was the one I had seen fall- 
ing in flames back of Loos. Then the Baron himself had 
singled out Stuart and the two were at each other, all 
out, back and forth, in and out of the clouds for the 
balance of the day. But nothing ever came of these 
duels. Both the Baron and Stuart were expert pilots, 
and each knew every manoeuvre and thought of the other ; 
in the excitement of the chase none of them had seen 
me again. When the Baron withdrew with his pilots, 
Stuart brought his fellows back over Loos. There they 
watched the Suffolks digging in, some of them three miles 
in front of the position they held when the attack began. 
Nothing had been seen of me and they thought naturally 
that I had flown in to my field. But when they got in 
and found that I had not yet landed they telephoned to 
the front sectors for information. A balloon company 
informed them that I had crashed out of control, some- 
where east of Vimy; the Squadron was to be cited in 
general orders for its brilliant coup at Loos that day, and 
I, who had enjoyed the excitement most of all, was to 
receive the D. F. C. 

The cigarette case came back to me. None of the 
members of the mess knew the girl, nor knew what name 
was represented by the letters R. D. 

“ Look it up to-morrow among the missing list/’ ad- 
vised Stuart. “ The poor devil’s name will appear in the 
daily report from G. H. Q. Then you can send the case 
to his sweetheart with your condolences. Deuced pretty 
girl, that, what ? ” 

Again Stuart took the cigarette case and looked long 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


119 


and earnestly at the fair face. “ By Jove, she is beauti- 
ful ! ” he repeated. “ Let me know what you find out 
about her.” He closed the case and handed it to me. 

“Keep it, Major, won’t you?” I protested, pushing 
back his hand. “ You know better than I how to find 
the owner. He was a gallant fellow. I hope you can 
find his sweetheart and tell her so.” He closed the case 
and put it in his pocket without a word. 

For an hour or two after mess we sat about the tables 
discussing the great battle that was being waged, and the 
part that our squadron would be called upon to play. It 
was brought out for my information that the British at- 
tack had been executed after months of preparation in 
concert with the French. Vimy Ridge, which had cost 
so many French lives the year before, had been the real 
objective. This had been taken yesterday, by the Cana- 
dians; to-day, the last enemy strongholds on Vimy Ridge 
had been captured. 

Loos lay at the extreme north end of the British at- 
tack. And here the Germans had to-day craftily en- 
deavored to turn our end, so as to again get in the rear 
of Vimy Ridge. But their planned attack had been 
turned into a rout by the fortunate rush of the Suffolks. 
Now the enemy must fall back on the cities of Douai, 
and Cambrai, each about fifteen miles from yesterday’s 
lines. 


CHAPTER VIII 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


HE following day was cold and gusty. A driving 



J- rain, occasionally turning to snow, made flying all 
but impossible. However our regular morning patrol 
was sent out across the enemy’s lines, only to return with 
the report that no other machines had been seen. The 
big battle was still raging furiously along the entire 
Front. The enemy was slowly yielding in spots and the 
muddy roads were choked with moving troops and guns. 

After getting the mechanics to work upon the frac- 
tured Rocket, which we had brought back tO' the aero- 
drome before morning, I turned in and slept until noon. 
There being no further flying orders for the afternoon, 
I spent the time in looking over Operation’s office, and 
in making the acquaintance of my fellow pilots. A long 
embossed sheet hung on the wall over Operation’s desk 
in his office. Upon it were written the names of the 
members of the Independent Squadron, together with the 
victories they had amassed. I was struck with the sig- 
nificance of the Roll of Honor that hung before my eyes. 
Stuart and Douglas led all the rest, each being credited 
with sixty-odd victories in air. Peter Willerton had col- 
lected his forty-nine victories within six months, on sev- 
eral occasions having shot down three machines while 
on a single flight. Then came Taffy with forty-six vie- 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


121 


tories; Babe with thirty-nine. Over forty aces were on 
this list, all of whom had been members of this great 
squadron; many of them were killed or missing; some, 
like Peter, had been removed by injuries from longer par- 
ticipation in air-fighting. 

Names that I had never heard of were credited with a 
score and more victories. All told, the Independent 
Squadron, within the first year of its organization, had 
piled up over four hundred victories against the airmen 
of the enemy. I felt more and more admiration for 
these doughty champions of the British fighting squad- 
rons, as I realized that unlike the French service, in 
quiet disdain of the pretensions of the German Aces who 
announced to the world every victory they won, these 
Englishmen avoided public acclaim. They simply went 
ahead doing their duty, saying nothing about it. 

A hasty comparison of the “ score ” proved beyond a 
doubt that the British Aces had amassed more victories 
in the air than had either the Germans or the French. 
I wondered how the coming American aviators would 
match up against this national rivalry in contests of the 
air! 

Another little calculation disclosed the fact that more 
German Aces than British Aces had been killed in com- 
bat. This was interesting because it indicated a su- 
periority in British skill. It shows better judgment and 
skill to win combats and survive for more, than to fight 
and fall. Aces win most of their victories, of course, 
against the novice class of the enemy. New pilots who 
lack experience in air dueling fall easy victims to veteran 
fighters. Bombing machines and observation machines 
that are slow to fly and slow to maneuver cannot with- 


122 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


stand a fighting machine. A skillful fighting pilot has 
little difficulty in conquering one of these slow freight 
cruisers that fights alone. But against another skillful 
Ace, where both pilots are equally well mounted, the vic- 
tory will go to him who> shoots straightest and flies best. 
The survival therefore of more British Aces than Gerrrian 
Aces, where the daily number of combats are about the 
same, evidenced better airmanship for the former. 

I found very complete data concerning the Baron’s 
squadron posted on another bulletin board beside our 
own. The type of their machines, their movements from 
one aerodrome to another during the past weeks, the 
daily victories claimed by each of the Aces in this unit, 
and various personal details about these enemy pilots 
were listed there for our information. 

As I ran my eye down this list of the Baron’s pilots, 
noting the victories claimed by each one, I suddenly felt 
my pulses give a bound and stop. There, toward the 
bottom of the list, was the name, Captain Reinhardt von 
Bruck, seventeen victories ! Reinhardt von Bruck was an 
old schoolfellow of mine, my dearest chum for several 
years, at the little school in Switzerland ! We had spent 
four of our boyhood years together there before the war 
began. And but a few months ago, while I was flying 
with the French on the Verdun Front, I had crashed my 
machine within the German lines and but for the devoted 
friendship of this German antagonist I would have been 
imprisoned, or probably killed. 

What had brought Reinhardt into the Baron’s squadron 
so soon after our last meeting? Of course I had not 
heard from him, had learned nothing of his movements 
from that day to this. But there stood his name, and 


THE GOLD CIGARETTE CASE 


123 


from the dates of certain victories credited to him it was 
evident that he had been flying and fighting with the 
Baron for at least three months. 

He must have been transferred to the Baron’s cele- 
brated red-nosed squadron almost immediately after he 
had dropped me down in Switzerland that October night 
seven months ago! I sat down in a chair, stunned and 
bewildered by this indisputable evidence of his nearness 
— our proximity. Suppose we met in combat! Sup- 
pose — ! 

Caudry was the site of their present aerodrome. I 
got up and consulted the large map on the wall. Yes, 
there was Caudry. I had flown over that little town 
earlier in the war. It lay down the straight old Roman 
road, running southeast from Cambrai to Le Cateau. 
Caudry could not be more than eight or nine miles be- 
yond Cambrai. We ourselves were perhaps twenty 
miles this side. In fifteen minutes’ flight I could be over 
Reinhardt’s field. Doubtless I would be over that field 
on numerous occasions in the near future with members 
of my squadron. I pondered over this unhappy situa- 
tion for several minutes, thinking back to the previous 
weeks when these same thoughts troubled me. 

How in the world should I recognize him if we met 
in sharp conflict in the sky? Must I turn tail and run 
from every one of the red-noses for fear Bunny might be 
its pilot? Would he have the information that I was 
now a member of Stuart’s crack squadron? Probably 
not. At least not for the present. Soon, of course, it 
would be known to the Germans. Secret as were all 
army preparations, it was not long before every detail 
was known to the other side. The German Intelligence 


124 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


would soon include my name in the Independent Fighting 
Squadron. It would doubtless be added to our roster in 
the Baron’s office, just as this list of his pilots hung in 
ours. 

Should I divulge the fact of my attachment to Bunny 
von Bruck to Duncan Stuart or any of my new friends 
here? No, that would not do. Nobody would be likely 
to understand it. Nobody would sanction such friend- 
ship. I must keep to myself such questionable connec- 
tions. And I must be doubly cautious in my first meet- 
ings with the Baron’s fellows, cautious both for my own 
sake and for Bunny’s, I wondered how I could reveal 
myself to Reinhardt upon our chance meeting in air? In 
my French squadron I had my name painted along the 
sides of my fusilage. But this was not done with the 
English. No one in Stuart’s squadron seemed to go in 
for identification marks. Perhaps it was against general 
orders. 

While I was ruminating to myself in this way, Major 
Stuart came running in. He merely nodded to me as he 
passed through the room to 1 the inner Operation’s Office 
where Captain Sandsfoot was acting for Captain Britson. 
Britson had flown back to Blighty yesterday afternoon 
with several others for a four days’ leave. 

A few minutes later a group of four pilots entered the 
room from the field. All four were grumbling and 
cursing. Rain drops glistened on their rubber ponchos, 
ran down their faces. They passed me without speak- 
ing, disappearing after Stuart into the office of Opera- 
tions. 

Soon I heard a lively discussion going on within that 
room, a discussion which was finally broken by Stuart’s 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


125 


raised voice into the telephone. This ended. After an- 
other short parley Stuart and the four pilots came out 
and stood before the large map that hung on the wall 
behind my chair. 

“ It’s a rotten job, boys,” Stuart said, looking gravely 
from one face to another. A sudden blast of wind sent 
the rain rattling against the panes. We all turned and 
looked out. 

“ Here is Monchy-le-Preux — here ! ” Stuart indicated, 
placing his finger on a spot just east of Arras. “ Here 
are the Vert Woods here next the Cambrai road. Both 
balloons are tethered behind these woods. They are 
hanging low. It’s a bad job. But it’s got to be done. 
These balloons are holding up our entire reserve. Every 
time our cavalry gets started they spot them from the 
balloons, and the Hun guns wipe them out.” 

“Why don’t they wait until dark?” demanded Lieu- 
tenant Sutton, one of the four. “ It will be dark in three 
or four hours.” 

“ In three or four hours the Hun will have dug in at 
Monchy,” replied Stuart. “ There’s no help for it. The 
general says we have to go.” 

The four pilots looked dubiously at each other. It 
was clear that none of them cared for the trip. After a 
short discussion as to formation and altitude the luckless 
four turned up the collars of their ponchos and passed 
out into the rain, headed for the hangars. Stuart 
watched them from the window until they entered the 
second hangar. Then seizing his raincoat from the hook 
he struggled into it without a word. 

“ I’d like to go with you, Duncan, if you don’t mind,” 
I suggested, picking up my own coat from the table. 


126 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ No, you won’t. This is no volunteer expedition. 
This is a balloon strafing party. Sutton, Brooks, Mc- 
Kenzie and Wetheral were selected by Old Bull for the 
job. They are our best balloon strafers. It’s murder- 
ous, but they’ve got to go. I intend to follow them up 
and see them through. It’s a beastly chore, but I won’t 
send a pilot of mine where I won’t go myself.” 

Half an hour later as I sat waiting for news of the 
Monchy balloon party, Captain Sands foot came out of 
his office with a long face. Several other pilots had left 
the bridge tables in the lounge, crossing over in the pour- 
ing rain as soon as they heard the roar of the motors 
leaving our field. We had all been sitting dejectedly 
staring out at the weather without speaking, straining 
our ears for the hum of returning motors. 

“ Bad news,” said Sandsfoot gloomily. He sat down 
and lighted a cigarette. We looked at him expectantly 
while he twisted the burnt match between his fingers for 
an eternity. “ They telephoned in that all four of our 
machines were shot down.” 

He cast the dead match viciously away. We stared at 
him for a moment in silence. 

“ Those cursed balloons were only a thousand feet off 
the ground,” he added. “ It was suicide.” 

“ Wh-what? ” ejaculated Taffy Walsh. “ Sutton and 
Brooks both gone ? ” 

“ Major Stuart and Bob Wetheral and old McKenzie 
went too,” returned Captain Sandsfoot. “ Four out of 
the five crashed over there. And they didn’t get either 
balloon at that. 

“ Old Bull just telephoned,” he went on after another 
long silence, knowing that the same ghastly question as 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


127 


to who was the lucky fifth was in everybody’s mind but 
none of us had the spirit to utter it. “ He's coming over 
here in his car.” 

Finally Taffy began to stutter. The rest of us fas- 
tened our eyes upon Sands foot’s downcast face. 

“ D-d-did they say anything about St-St-Stuart ? ” 

A shake of the head was his only answer. We got 
to our feet and walked nervously about the room. No- 
body spoke much after that. An orderly appeared to 
summon Sandsfoot back to his office. We alternately 
glanced at our watches, then through the window panes 
to the muddy surface of the aerodrome. Groups of me- 
chanics were standing at the mouths of the hangars dis- 
mally staring off toward the lines. They had not yet 
learned the awful news but still they were depressed by 
some foreboding of ill. We heard the voice of Captain 
Sandsfoot shouting angrily over the telephone. Then 
a sudden activity among the mechanics on the field at- 
tracted our attention. Without waiting to get our rain- 
coats we ran bareheaded out the door, through the rain 
and mud onto the field. One of our machines was just 
landing. Who was in it ! 

Half a dozen of us pulled Major Stuart out of his 
tattered machine almost before it had stopped rolling. 
His wings and fusilage were riddled with bullet holes. 
Both tires had been punctured ; wires were sagging, some 
were severed. 

Excited inquiries were shouted at him as we took his 
arms and led him back through the mud to headquarters. 
He did not reply. He was angry and scowling. There 
was little need for inquiries. Four machines were re- 
ported down back of the Vert Woods, and here was the 


128 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


fifth, as full of holes as a colander. Stuart himself did 
not appear to be scratched. 

The whole mess had collected on the field to meet him. 
Now all the officers were gathered about him inside his 
office. In a few words he told us what had happened. 

“ Absolute murder ! ” Stuart groaned. “ The balloons 
were not five hundred feet up. The Huns must have had 
a thousand machine guns planted around each balloon, 
firing straight up. Old Mac led off at the first balloon. 
He didn’t even reach it. His propeller was struck and 
he crashed in the open. Bob and Sutton were a mile 
south of us, after the other balloon. Both of them flew 
through the fire over the balloon once and never came 
back. Brooks and I got across each balloon once. We 
each put a short burst into them but they were so wet 
they didn’t catch fire. As we came back Brooks was 
hit. Wounded or killed, I don’t know. He struck the 
ground and turned over. His machine burst into flames. 

“ Good God ! ” Duncan gasped, “ it was a steady hail- 
storm of bullets. And the rain was so thick one couldn’t 

ft 

see. 

Stuart got to his feet and walked brokenly up and 
down the room. The group about him stood silent. 
The distant rumble of guns came through the misty air, 
now and then punctuated with the slower report of a 
“ heavy ” which rattled the windows about us. As each 
struggled severally with the emotions which Stuart’s story 
had awakened, imagined the awful picture which he had 
described, a sullen feeling of resentment mastered the 
group. Stuart himself felt so bitter about this great loss 
to his squadron that his personal risks so narrowly es- 
caped were not considered. 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


129 


Balloon strafing is the most dangerous mission that 
comes to the war flier. Under the circumstances sur- 
rounding the Monchy balloons, hanging at five hundred 
feet in the rain, an attack, as Stuart said, was almost 
suicidal. 

A motor car stopped outside the entrance. An orderly 
opened the door. A heavy man of sixty entered the 
room. He cast a sharp glance over us as we quickly 
came to attention. He removed his gloves and coat, 
handed them to the orderly, rubbed his hands together 
for a moment, then without speaking a word he strode 
through us, his fingers intertwined behind his back. At 
the far wall he stopped, turned his back to the fire that 
was burning in the grate and with his eyes bent on a 
crack at his feet he seemed to have forgotten our pres- 
ence. It needed no word of introduction to tell me that 
our visitor was General Turnbull himself. 

General Turnbull was the idol of the British aviators. 
His sympathy with his pilots, his understanding of the 
problems of air warfare, made him the bulwark of the 
allied aid forces. Straightforward and warm-hearted, 
he had made every pilot under his command his personal 
friend. No airman of the British ever thought of ques- 
tioning the judgment or the orders of General Turnbull. 
He was loved by every officer under him. 

Major Stuart had more than once in his conversations 
with me alluded to the affection which General Turnbull 
had always shown toward him. It was through the 
efforts of the General that Stuart’s magnificent squa- 
dron had been assembled. A mutual understanding and 
sympathy existed between this commanding officer and 
every individual of his squadron. But a more intimate 


130 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


friendship for Duncan Stuart had given him its leader- 
ship. 

And now, as General Turnbull stood before the gaze 
of his favorite squadron of pilots, as he observed their 
demeanor and that of their commanding officer, he could 
not but feel the condemnation of their minds. This 
galaxy of stars whose exploits had so well justified his 
pride in them, blamed him for the useless sacrifice of their 
expert balloon Aces. He raised his head and looked at 
the rigid, motionless figure of Major Stuart. Stuart 
was standing with the rest of us, but his downcast face 
exhibited an unyielding anger and sorrow. Four of his 
best pilots had been ruthlessly sacrificed within the hour, 
sacrificed upon a mission which he had rightly denounced 
as murderous. Every heart in that room felt the tense- 
ness of the tragic encounter that was coming. Every 
eye silently watched the two great antagonists. They 
stood apart from each other, apart from us. 

A full minute passed in such uncompromising hostility 
that I was conscious of a cold spasm traveling along my 
spine. The general slowly turned his head, passing his 
calm eyes across each of us in turn. Reaching the end 
of our line those imperious gray eyes came to the win- 
dow, rested there thoughtfully a moment, seeming to 
grow more sorrowful, more sympathetic, as he gazed out 
into the dismal rain. He sensed the feelings of his 
officers, guessed their misery and thoughts. With a big- 
ness characteristic of him, he did not stoop to express his 
commiseration in merely formal words. It suddenly 
came to me that he was suffering more over the loss of 
our gallant four men than were the brother pilots them- 
selves. 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


131 


Dropping his long gaze from the window, General 
Turnbull began to pace up and down the room. The 
tension broken, we relaxed our bodies, feet began to 
shuffle. Stuart awakened from his reverif' long enough 
to look anxiously about our circle to see that no disre- 
spect was being shown our superior officer. 

Back and forth, back and forth, from the front door 
to the smoldering fire in the grate, the general strode, his 
hands behind his back, his eyes bent sorrowfully upon 
the floor. At last he came to a pause before the rigid 
figure of Major Stuart. The general placed both hands 
upon Stuart’s shoulders, looking him levelly in the face)) 
“ Duncan,” he said in a deep, noble voice, “ those bal- 
loons are more important — than we are.” 

The simplicity of these words, the vivid truth of what 
he said, brought a rush of determination to my breast 
that smothered all other feeling. I could see in the faces 
about me a corresponding effect. Stuart himself lifted 
his head and looked at the grave countenance of his 
friend and superior with a new light dawning in his eyes. 

The general dropped his arms. He began to pace the 
floor again when Duncan spoke thickly : — 

“ Yes, sir! I’ll go back and get them, sir! ” 

Duncan stepped to the row of hooks on the wall and 
was taking down his wet flying suit when the general 
stopped him. With a huge hand covering Duncan’s as 
it rested on the peg which held the flying suit, General 
Turnbull lifted it down, holding it for a moment before 
he released his grip. 

“ Not so fast, Duncan! ” said he, speaking in the same 
deep voice. That voice held a quality of courage and 
authority that instilled a hearer with confidence. “ You 


132 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

are not to go again. You have two of the new Rockets 
here on your field, haven’t you ? ” 

“ Only one, sir,” responded Stuart, throwing an in- 
voluntary glance at me. 

“ One? I was under the impression you brought over 
two with you yesterday.” 

“ Quite right, sir. But one of them was used up in 
that little affair at Loos last night, sir. Captain Adair 
was struck by a shell — ” 

“ Ah ! Which is Captain Adair ? ” asked the same 
deep voice, a benevolence in the tone that set my heart 
beating rapidly. I advanced and found my hand held 
firmly in a great hairy fist under a pressure that confused 
me. The general’s steady eyes looked into mine with a 
searching scrutiny. I knew he would never see me again 
without remembering me. 

“ I thank you, Captain Adair, for your work yester- 
day,” he said. “ I shall have the pleasure of presenting 
you with a mark of His Majesty’s appreciation later on.” 

I saluted and withdrew, to receive a sly dig in my side 
from the irrepressible Babe Ballou. General Turnbull 
and Major Stuart crossed to the window where they 
stood quietly conversing. Taffy Walsh advanced toward 
them, very imprudently opening his mouth for an utter- 
ance. He stopped, saluted and began to stutter. 

“ I’ll g-g-go, sir.” 

The general turned. 

“ Good afternoon, Taffy. Did you have a pleasant 
leave in London ? ” 

“ Yes, sir. I’ll go for those bl-bl-bl- ” 

We all burst out laughing, much to Taffy’s anger; but 
it did much to relieve the tension all around. 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


133 


“ Now, boys ! ” began General Turnbull, “ let me tell 
you in a few words just what this emergency is. The 
Hun is beginning a long retreat along this front. We’ve 
been planning for this drive all winter. It is going re- 
markably well. Arras is the center of our attack, as 
you know. The enemy is falling back upon the Hinden- 
burg line and if General Haig’s plans do not miscarry, 
we will be astride of the Hindenburg line before to- 
morrow morning. 

“ These Monchy balloons enable the enemy to shell our 
cavalry as they advance. It is absolutely imperative that 
we take Monchy before the enemy has time to fortify 
himself there. Every hour, every minute, is costly — 
terribly costly. One successful aviator there will save 
thousands of Tommies. Now who will go? ” 

Like a crowd of schoolboys rushing up for sweets the 
pilots behind me pressed forward, shouting. They 
seized the general’s hands, each putting forward some 
especial claim of his own as to why he should be chosen. 
All thoughts of the fate of MacKenzie, Brooks, and the 
others of our experienced balloon strafers who had fal- 
len but an hour before, had vanished. All the horrors 
of Stuart’s description of what was before them had 
passed from their minds. Such was the effect of Gen- 
eral Turnbull’s magnetism upon his pilots. 

“ I’ll go! ” 

“ Count me in, sir.” 

“ It’s my turn, Duncan.” 

“ Remember your promise to me, Dunk ! You always 
forget me.” 

Such were the urgent pleas put forward by these self- 
contained veterans of the Independent Fighting Squad- 


134 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


ron. Tears of gratification stood plainly seen in the 
general’s eyes. Duncan Stuart remained unmoved 
through this boisterous exhibition. 

“ Steady, fellows!” cautioned Major Stuart. “The 
time is short. These are my orders. Taffy Walsh will 
take the machine that Brooks used at Ypres last week — 
the bus with the one-pounder gun mounted in its nose; 
I am going back, with your permission, sir, this time in 
the Rocket. Run down to the hangar, will you, Arnold, 
and see to the ammunition for the Rocket. Get away, 
Taffy, and hurry.” 

I was out of the door, with Taffy at my heels, half the 
others accompanying us to our respective hangars. The 
fury of the rain had subsided but the afternoon was still 
anything but pleasant. 

Twenty minutes later, General Turnbull stood with us 
in the mud watching the two machines as they disap- 
peared over the trees in the direction of Arras. For 
some reason the apprehensions of the previous hour had 
disappeared. Every one felt elated and confident of suc- 
cess. Of course it was the presence of our G. O. C. 
which enthused our spirits. After a few minutes’ con- 
versation with the others the general turned to me and 
startled me by saying : — 

“ You served with the French from the very begin- 
ning, Adair, is it not so? ” 

“ Since September, 1914, sir.” 

“ And you are a friend of Philippe Pieron, the old 
French flier, are you not? ” 

“ Yes, sir,” I replied, wondering greatly how this 
English general found time to learn such particulars con- 
cerning every pilot in his squadrons. 


A DAY OF DISCOVERIES 


135 


“ A very able and distinguished airman, is Major 
Pieron,” declared the general. “ He has been appointed 
liaison officer between my Headquarters and the French, 
at my request. I will tell him that you are here.” 

I bowed my thanks for this kindness, realizing why it 
was that this elderly commanding officer should hold such 
a position in the affection of his aviators. He took pains 
to acquaint himself with the personal history of each one. 

Captain Sands foot came dashing out of the door of 
his office, waving a piece of paper high over his head as 
he plunged toward us. He was greeted with a cheer by 
pilots and mechanics alike, all realizing that his excite- 
ment could mean only one thing. 

“ Monchy balloons down in flames at three-eighteen, 
and three-eighteen and one half ! ” he shouted jubilantly. 

“ Credit given to one machine of Major Stuart’s squad- 
ron, and one strange machine from a squadron unknown. 
Signed, Johnstone, Corps Headquarters.” 

“ Strange machine from squadron unknown,” re- 
peated General Turnbull, rubbing his great fists de- 
lightedly. “ That’s the little Rocket ! Eh, Arnold ? ” 
and he gripped my hand boyishly as I blushed my em- 
barrassment. Great volleys of cheers split the misty air 
about us. And soon the two victorious balloon-strafers 
were descried, headed toward us through the mist. 

General Turnbull waited only long enough to squeeze 
the hands of Stuart and Taffy, then summoning his car, 
he was driven swiftly away. Our pilots surrounded the 
two heroes of the day plying them with questions; we 
accompanied them to their quarters. 

It had been a comparatively simple excursion for them, 
if one could believe their description of their mission. 


136 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


The clouds had happened to be extremely low over the 
Bois de Vert when they arrived there. Taffy dived 
straight out of the clouds upon the northerly balloon, 
firing only two of his flaming projectiles from the one- 
pounder gun. The balloon burst into flames before the 
observer had time to jump. Zooming quickly upward 
he gained the shelter of the cloud and steered blindly in 
the direction of the southerly balloon which was swung 
a short mile away. But when he emerged from the 
cloud he saw that Stuart had already destroyed it. 
Straight for Arras he flew, both machines passing over 
Corps Headquarters on their way; and thence home. 

Stuart, however, was less communicative about his vic- 
tory. The spectacle he had witnessed earlier this after- 
noon still weighed down his spirits. Bertie Brooks had 
been a classmate of his at Eton ! 


CHAPTER IX 


I MEET THE BARON 

I T was quite a week after the events related in the last 
chapter that Duncan called me to him, one morning, 
and taking the gold cigarette case from his pocket, told 
me that he had discovered the name of the officer who 
had owned it. Major Robert Darkmoor, of the Oxford- 
shires, was reported killed in action; the time and place 
of his death coincided exactly with the events that I had 
described when this cigarette case had first come into my 
possession. The initials, R. D., confirmed this clue; and 
to my great surprise, Duncan Stuart knew this Robert 
Darkmoor quite well. 

“ Everybody in London knows the Darkmoors, Ar- 
nold/' Stuart explained. “ It's a name as familiar to 
an Englishman as Rockefeller or Morgan is to you 
Americans. The Darkmoors have owned ships and rail- 
ways for several generations. They are in every part 
of the Empire." 

I could only apologize for my ignorance and express 
the hope that I would know more about Londoners be- 
fore the war was over. Then I asked Duncan about the 
family, and whether he would like me to write them the 
particulars about the death of their son. 

“ There's only Lord Darkmoor, Robert’s father," 
Stuart replied. “ He is in London now, I believe, though 
I have never met the Earl. His company was badly hit 


138 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


when the war broke out. The Darkmoor Company 
owned railroads in Turkey, Persia and India. They 
were heavily interested in lines that were seized by Ger- 
many. They lost merchant ships, too, by submarines. 
It’s a proud old family; the old Earl, they say, is a Tar- 
tar. No doubt he would like to hear how his son was 
killed. You are the only one that saw it. Probably the 
old boy is pretty well cut up. There are no other chil- 
dren. Robert belonged to one or two of my clubs in 
London. He was several years older than I.” 

A day or two later I handed Duncan the letter that 
I had written to Lord Darkmoor in which I had de- 
scribed, as best I pould, the details surrounding the death 
of Major Robert Darkmoor, his son. I described how 
I had found the gold cigarette case, telling him it would 
be brought to him as soon as one of our pilots should go 
to London on leave. It was not a pleasant letter to write, 
especially as Duncan had told me how bitter Lord Dark- 
moor felt toward his son for going into the war. The 
gallant fellow who had died in my arms was, at the out- 
break of the war, taking his place at the head of the 
great business. The demands of the war had been too 
pressing for him to resist. He had enlisted although the 
Earl had very keenly resented the departure of his right 
hand, just as so many calamities had befallen the business 
affairs of Darkmoor Company. 

As to the original of the miniature in Major Dark- 
moor’s cigarette case, Duncan had found no clue. I 
said nothing about this miniature to Lord Darkmoor. 
Not knowing who she was I was unable, of course, to 
write a similar letter to her. 

“ This is all right ; splendid ! ” said Duncan to me, read- 


I MEET THE BARON 


139 


ing the letter and folding it up. “ Matter of fact I must 
fly across to England to-day to see what is holding up 
those Rockets. I will go out of my way to carry this 
letter to Earl Darkmoor, that is, if he is in his London 
house. I will call there anyway, leaving him your letter 
and the cigarette case.” 

The matter was thus dismissed from my mind and I 
thought no more about it. 

Toward the end of April beautiful sunny weather 
smiled down upon us ; all through the month of May we 
had glorious work along our part of the Front. The 
Rockets still were delayed and Major Stuart again flew 
over to England to see if he could not hurry them along. 
Our two original machines were both serviceable and 
were now lying in readiness within the hangars, mine 
having been repaired, but we did not take them out again 
under Old Bull’s express orders. Many gains, a few 
severe losses, had been ours during that month of April, 
1917. On our Front the German lost 369 machines, the 
French 201 and our own losses were 147, all in this 
month of April. I had much luck and some success ; be- 
fore the first of May my name was put in our list of aces. 

All of this fighting had been carried on over German 
territory, so we could only estimate the number of enemy 
machines we had actually destroyed. Whenever our 
own machines were disabled in fighting, but were still 
able to crawl home, we did not count them as “ shot 
down,” although the Germans probably did count them 
among their victims. There is much buncome in the 
matter of claiming victories. I must confess I much pre- 
fer the English method of making no claims about vic- 
tories at all outside the walls of one’s own aerodrome. 


140 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

On a pleasant afternoon in May, Babe Ballou, Taffy 
and I had just finished our second patrol across the lines; 
it had taken us as far south as Albert and back without 
disclosing any great activity in the enemy’s air. Our 
duty done for the day we were loafing about the aero- 
drome without anything particular to do, when Taffy 
lifted his head, staring eastward in the direction of the 
lines. We followed his gaze; soon we saw one of our 
blue-nosed S. E. 5’s come staggering in badly shot about. 
It landed safely and out of the cockpit leaped Lieutenant 
Barnnard, one of our new pilots. He ran for his han- 
gar, shouting to his mechanics to roll out his second ma- 
chine. We strolled down after him to see what it was 
all about. 

Lieutenant Barnnard was a new pilot in our squadron 
— newer even than I. Immediately after the loss of our 
four balloon-strafers Major Stuart had sent for four ad- 
ditional men whose names were on his list; Barnnard 
was one of them. He flew in and reported for duty 
three days subsequent to that tragic afternoon. 

The peculiar thing about Barnnard was that he flew 
without head-covering or goggles, no matter what sort 
of a day it happened to be overhead. He had learned 
to fly in the hot climate of India, he said ; as for goggles, 
he had never worn them because they interfered with his 
monocle! Flying, walking, eating, sleeping or shaving, 
none of us had ever seen Barnnard without his monocle 
stuck in his right eye. Taffy Walsh, who slept in the 
same hut with him, affirmed that he had seen Barnnard 
remove it one morning when he was washing his face, 
but Taffy’s statement was discredited. 

With the monocle went an accent so broad and 


I MEET THE BARON 


141 


Oxonian, that a stranger would have thought Barnnard 
was imitating a stage Englishman. He was quiet rather 
than talkative, an excellent fellow all around as we soon 
came to know. But just now at the first we looked upon 
Barnnard as something of a joke. 

He was in no joking humor on the present occasion, 
however. He ordered his mechanics around with a 
sharp tongue, paying not the slightest attention to our 
presence, until his machine rolled out onto the field. 
Even then he vouchsafed us but the meagerest informa- 
tion. As his motor was warming up, having no possible 
excuse for evading our questions any longer, Barnnard 
told us shortly that the Baron had “ jumped ” him this 
side of Cambrai, and had knocked him about a bit. He 
had come home fighting mad to get a new machine, and 
he was determined to go back immediately and have it 
out with the Baron. He buzzed u p- his motor as he 
spoke and before we could ask him to wait for us he was 
off and away. 

Stuart was absent in England that day and Captain 
Douglas was in command. Douglas himself was on a 
patrol at the moment, leaving Captain Britson, our Opera- 
tions, in charge of the field. Considering ourselves 
bound to answer this “ alerte,” Babe, Taffy and I, with- 
out refilling our tanks, hailed our mechanics, and getting 
our motors started without delay, we followed along be- 
hind Barnnard in the direction of Cambrai as fast as we 
could fly. 

I had never yet encountered the Baron. Members of 
his squadron had encountered me and I had found that 
they were a well-trained lot. I was by now fully ac- 
quainted with the S. E. 5 machine, feeling quite willing 


142 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


to trust myself to its capabilities. Up to this time when 
engaged with an enemy Fokker, I had found that my ma- 
chine was in every respect as clever in maneuvering as 
was this stalwart fighting machine of the enemy. 

We saw Barnnard climbing as he flew eastward. Th< 
sky was generally clear, although fluffy white clouds 
spotted the heavens up at ten thousand feet. It was 
somewhat back of Cambrai that we reached the level of 
these clouds, into one of which we had seen Barnnard 
disappear, still climbing. So far nothing was flying in 
our vicinity excepting one or two observation machines 
of our own, which were taking photographs of the lower 
side of Cambrai. Deep within the enemy territory a 
bank of white clouds was floating lower down. But they 
were fifteen miles away. Down there almost at my feet 
I picked out the little town of Caudry, at the eastern end 
of which I noted the flying field and machines of the 
famous Baron. Reinhardt von Bruck lived there. Some 
day I should drop him a message, and chance his getting 
it without bringing injury to him. We had all had nick- 
names at school. Chingachgook was mine, Bunny was 
his. He alone would identify the sender of a message 
signed Chingachgook. 

We reached the billowy cloud into which Barnnard 
had been swallowed; all three of us skirted its edges 
looking for a gap through. Babe followed us for a few 
minutes, while Archy was pointing us out, then recklessly 
pulling back his stick he zoomed up into the cloud and 
disappeared. Taffy and I eased back to the south, and 
began to climb the side of the cloud on a slant, regard- 
less of Archy but keeping a wary eye out for surprises 
above as we proceeded. 



I saw another machine flash past me. See page 143. 



I MEET THE BARON 


143 


The cloud bank was thicker by far than I .had antici- 
pated. At some thirteen thousand feet we reached the 
upper floor; crossing it we gained a wide view to the 
north. And there almost directly above Valenciennes, 
we saw a running fight in which a dozen machines were 
engaged. Without hesitation we pointed our noses for 
the combat and opened our throttles. The fight was at 
our present elevation some six or seven miles away. 

Firing a few shots to clear my guns, I dropped in be- 
hind Taffy’s right wing and let him lead the way. Taffy 
edged to the west as he climbed, to get between the glare 
of the sun and the circling machines. I followed him 
mechanically, keeping my eyes glued on the combat ahead 
and below us, attempting to distinguish and identify the 
aeroplanes that were twisting about one another with 
such absolute defiance to the laws of gravity. Some for- 
tunate premonition caused me to look over my left 
shoulder into the glowing sun. It was in the very nick 
of time. 

Dipping my nose for one instant during which a 
stream of bullets tore through my wing less than a yard 
away from my face, I pulled my stick into my chest with 
my motor wide open. The sturdy little craft zoomed 
upward just as a darting meteor with a flaming red nose 
flashed beneath me. At last I had met the Baron ! 

He had concealed himself in the cloud, waiting for a 
victim. Too many stories of his tactics had been re- 
counted to me to permit me to mistake his identity. 
Only by some sixth sense had I felt his coming. Taffy 
had turned upon his wing and had darted downward to 
the left. This I felt rather than saw. For before I 
had recovered my equilibrium, I saw another machine 


144 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


flash past me, its wires shrieking as they tore through the 
wind ; one brief glimpse disclosed Barnnard, his monocle 
fixed in his eye, his fair hair flying to the wind as he 
slid down the trail on the tail of the Baron. Both ma- 
chines had passed me in the tenth part of a second. 

As I righted my machine L discovered Babe emerging 
from a cloud behind me. A glance ahead located Taffy 
somewhat to the left; below him was the Baron’s red 
Fokker with its malignant black Maltese Cross. The 
Baron had swerved to the left, and Barnnard, firing both 
guns, had gone whistling past. It was my turn to shoot. 
I threw caution to the winds, as I headed directly down- 
ward with my sights trained upon the center of the Fok- 
ker’s top wing. Barnnard’s attack had evidently sur- 
prised the Baron, as much as his appearance had sur- 
prised me; for he had lost his speed for the instant, and 
was hanging there below me at no very distant range. 
Taffy was at a disadvantage since he did not have my 
opportunity for a downward dive upon our much prized 
enemy. I opened fire with both guns at seventy or 
eighty yards’ distance. I saw my tracer bullets enter the 
precise spot they were intended to go, directly over the 
pilot’s seat. Perhaps they were an inch too far forward. 
I tilted my nose down another inch. The next tracer 
bullet wound its smoky trail into the desired spot — and 
I believed that I had riddled the Baron on his seat. 

His machine gave a violent swerve to the right as I 
passed him; I darted a quick glance at him to see if he 
were done for. He waved me a nonchalant salute with 
his fingers to his nose as he smiled at me. I could hardly 
believe my eyes ! He had had a close shave of it but was 
untouched. Turning his head for a glance at Taffy, he 


I MEET THE BARON 


145 


darted to the right as I climbed to the left working 
feverishly to regain my lost altitude. But I was not to 
get another chance. I had had a magnificent opportunity 
— ■ and had lost. 

Stuart returned from London that evening. Immedi- 
ately after dinner I took him one side and described to 
him the events of the afternoon. Barnnard had per- 
mitted his fury to get the best of him, and the Baron had 
put a bullet or two into Barnnard’ s shoulder. Barnnard 
certainly would have been killed had not Babe and Taffy 
interposed to worry the Baron while Barnnard limped 
home suffering greatly. Douglas had added two more 
victories to his list; Foote and Mackey had won one 
each. 

“ I might have told you that machine gun bullets would 
not penetrate the Baron’s top wing, just over his seat,” 
Stuart remarked calmly. “ You wasted your shots there. 
He has a thin slab of metal there to stop such missiles. 
You must always be on your guard with the Baron. He 
is a very crafty bird.” 

“ He will never surprise me a second time.” 

Major Stuart smiled. He and the Baron had met so 
frequently that he knew, better than any one else, the 
measure of this champion’s ability. 

“ Splendid ! but you won’t know it if he does, Arnold. 
The Baron never fires more than three or four shots. 
He makes a specialty of surprises. He is never in the 
crowd with the others. He lurks about overhead, taking 
advantage of the sun or the clouds, concealing himself 
until your attention is occupied, and then — zut — he is 
on your tail.” 

“ Did you ever get a shot at him ? ” 


146 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Oh> yes. When everybody is milling around in a 
dog fight there are opportunities to break through when 
he is after somebody else. But the Baron has a charmed 
life. Did any one get any of the Baronettes to-day ?” 
Baronettes was the term applied to lesser members of the 
Baron’s red-nosed squadron. 

“ No, Douglas brought down a two-seater observation 
machine, and a Fokker that was defending it. It’s a pity 
we can’t get our Rockets. What is the trouble ? ” 

“ The trouble is, Arnold, they can’t turn out the 
motors-. These three Rockets that were made first had 
handmade motors. When they began to turn them out in 
machine-made lots, they found they were faulty. And 
our friend, Doctor Shubrug, I find, is one of the Direc- 
tors of the Coventry Company which is making them. 
Perhaps he is treating the malady.” 

“ Can they cure it ? ” 

Stuart looked troubled. He did not reply at once, but 
from his manner I suspected that something was very 
wrong indeed. He had made three hurried trips to Eng- 
land, on this very matter of procuring the promised 
Rockets for our squadron, promised more than a fort- 
night ago. His reluctance to discuss his suspicions made 
them more serious in my estimation. 

“ I do not know,” Stuart answered. “ By the way ! ” 
and here my commanding officer betrayed a very unusual 
embarrassment of manner, “ I delivered the letter to 
Lord Darkmoor, you know.” 

“ Oh, I had forgotten all about that. Was he much 
cut up about it ? ” 

“ Well, to tell the truth, I did not see the Earl him- 
self. He was ill in bed. They do not want Robert’s 


I MEET THE BARON 


147 


cigarette case — wouldn’t look at it even. Eve brought 
it back to you. Here it is.” And Duncan reluctantly 
produced the gold case and extended it toward me. I 
was a bit puzzled to see a pleading look in his eyes that 
I never before had discovered in them. 

“ I don’t want it, Duncan. Keep it yourself. You 
knew Robert Darkmoor and I didn’t. If the family 
wishes you to keep it, please do not think that I have any 
claims. Really, I do not want the case.” 

There was an expression of gratification in Duncan’s 
face as he quickly pocketed the case, that again puzzled 
me. Duncan Stuart was not the kind to accept gifts, 
nor would anybody accuse him of the souvenir habit. 
“ But,” I continued, “ I thought you said there was no 
one in the family but the Earl himself. Whom do you 
mean by ‘ they ’ ? ” 

Major Stuart’s face turned crimson. He shot a look 
into my eyes, half suspicious, half imploring. He at- 
tempted to smile but embarrassment forced him to turn 
away his head. The next moment he drew a deep breath, 
faced me squarely and began. 

“ I will tell you the whole story, Arnold,” said he, 
diving into the pocket of his tunic again and bringing 
forth the cigarette case. He opened it and held up be- 
fore me the delicately colored miniature of the girl on 
the left side of the case. It was now set in jewels ! 

“ This is Robert’s sister, Lady Joan Darkmoor. She 
has been in a convent in Southern France ever since her 
mother died. Lord Darkmoor sent for her as soon as the 
news* came # of Robert’s death. I saw her there at the 
Park Lane house when I took your letter. I did not 
know Robert had a sister — never heard of her.” 


148 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


He paused, considering how much more he ought to 
tell me. As for me, I saw a great light. Duncan was 
in love with this girl. Every muscle of his face betrayed 
him. No wonder he wanted to keep the cigarette case. 
When I had last seen it, the small picture had not been 
framed in jewels. He had done this himself. 

“ So it was not Major Darkmoor’s sweetheart after 
all ! ” I ejaculated in my astonishment. 

“ Oh, no. It is his sister. They were devotedly at- 
tached to each other. I wish I could tell you what oc- 
curred, Arnold, when I suddenly saw the original of that 
picture standing before me there in that great house/’ 

“ Do ! ” I urged him, keeping my eyes upon the rug 
of his office. 

“ I went there that first afternoon — the day you gave 
me the letter for the Earl, you know. I was admitted 
into a darkened drawing-room. I told the servant that 
I had come with news about Mr. Robert. I asked for 
the Earl. The man left me alone there. I stood look- 
ing out into the garden, thinking how I should best break 
the facts to his Lordship. I stood there thinking — I 
do not know how long, when I heard something rustling 
beside me. I turned around — and there was a girl 
standing by my side looking up at me with her whole 
heart and soul in her eyes.” 

Stuart fingered a pen nervously as he talked, clutching 
it spasmodically in his fingers, then compelling his mus- 
cles to relax. 

“ She was gowned in black,” he went on. “ Her 
fingers were clasped pressing her throat. She stood like 
a beautiful statue looking at me, her eyes full of tears. 
She was so gentle and imploring — there was such a look 


I MEET THE BARON 


149 


of the purity of the convent about her, I stood there ac- 
tually speechless, not knowing what to say. I had ex- 
pected a bad enough time of it with Robert’s father. 
But here was his fiancee. I knew perfectly well it must 
be, for she was the speaking image of her miniature 
here.” 

He opened it again and took a long look at the minia- 
ture, shamelessly ignoring my presence. 

“ Then she spoke to me in the softest voice imaginable. 
* I am Joan Darkmoor,’ she said. ‘ Robert’s sister.’ 

“ I put my hands back against the window ledge to 
support myself while I tried to comprehend this new 
surprise. All the while her eyes never left mine for an 
instant. They were beseeching me to be merciful and 
kind to her. She trusted me to give her happiness — 
not woe ! How could I tell her ! 

“ Finally I found my voice enough to ask if Lord 
Darkmoor was in. She came nearer to me and speaking 
in a low, intimate tone, told me that he was very ill, that 
he could not see me. She had been at his bedside when 
my card was brought up with the message that I had 
come to tell about Robert. She had come down without 
disturbing her father with the news. Then, by Jove, 
she put her hand on my sleeve, as if to tell me she knew 
I had a hard thing to say, begging me to pluck up cour- 
age and go through with it. Plucky! She had more 
pluck than I had. 

“ I got through with it somehow. I told her I was 
an old friend of Robert’s, to begin with. I couldn’t bear 
to look at her as I went on with your story. I told her 
how he had come out to your rescue, how generous and 
cool he was. When I told about your sending the Tom- 


150 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


mies back for Robert’s body, she very nearly broke down. 

“ Then I took out this cigarette case to give to her.” 

Stuart picked it up from the table and caressed it 
softly. He was lost in his narration, his eyes were far 
away, he had quite forgotten my presence. He collected 
himself, looked at me earnestly for a moment, and then 
began to smile. 

“You are entitled to the whole story, Arnold,” said 
he, squeezing my hand. He got to his feet and began 
to pace the floor. 

“If it hadn’t been for you I shouldn’t ever have seen 
her. She thinks as much of you as I do,” he went 
on, plunging deeper and deeper into private reflections 
that were revelations to me. “ I have betrayed myself 
completely now. Well, anyway, to make a clean breast 
of it, when Lady Joan saw the cigarette case she gave 
a cry that would have broken your heart. She pushed 
it away and fell toward me. She sobbed in my arms, 
trying to pull herself together, begging me to forgive her, 
to spare her, not to tell her any more. 

“ Later she told me she had sent this cigarette case to 
her brother from the convent in Nice. It was a present 
on his last birthday. She never wanted to see it again. 

“ I left the house, my brain in a whirl. I walked 
about the Park for hours — went without my dinner, 
acted the fool generally. About nine o’clock that eve- 
ning I found myself back there again, I do not know 
on what clumsy subterfuge. She saw me, she expected 
me to come back, she said. She had looked me up in 
the official records and knew all about me. She didn’t 
seem to think it at all queer that I had come blundering 
back the same evening without any excuse. I got her 


I MEET THE BARON 


151 


permission to call again next time I was home on leave.” 

“ That accounts for the trouble you are having with 
the Rockets, doesn’t it, Duncan ? ” I demanded, laughing. 
“ You’ve been back four times now on that business.” 

“ No,” he answered, flushing up nevertheless as he 
met my glance, “ I’ve had to go. Don’t be foolish. But 
I have seen her every time. And I had a chat with the 
Earl this afternoon after luncheon.” 

“ Did you get his consent ? ” I asked mischievously. 

Stuart’s face darkened. 

“ No, I did not. And Doctor Shubrug was there. 
That cursed spy! I had to ask him to leave me alone 
with the Earl. He had the effrontery to ask me what it 
was I desired to talk about to his patient. Fortunately 
Lord Darkmoor took my part and told him to leave us 
alone. But as soon as I began to speak, the Earl shut 
me up. I told him I loved his daughter and that I be- 
lieved she cared for me. He said that was nonsense, 
forbade me ever mentioning the subject again. When I 
told him that I could not promise to obey him there, he 
became angry and forbade me coming again to his house. 
But I do not mind that much ! ” And on Stuart’s hand- 
some face returned such a look of confidence and delight, 
I very well knew that he had not made me such a com- 
pletely clean breast of everything after all. 

Before we separated that night Duncan talked long 
and intimately about his hopes and fears concerning the 
Lady Joan Darkmoor. She knew almost no one in 
London, he said, beyond her own relations and certain 
intimate friends of the Earl’s who were in the habit of 
visiting there. The? Earl was confined to his bed, much 
shaken in health and spirits. Of course he was under 


152 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


the constant care of Dr. Shubrug. His lifelong dream 
had been to have Robert Darkmoor carry on the affairs 
of Darkmoor Company, Limited. But Robert’s death 
had ended that. 

And now, nothing but the marriage of Lady Joan to 
John Richmond, the son of his former partner, could 
attain the ends he desired for his business interests. 
This determination of Lord Darkmoor’s appeared to be 
the main obstacle to Duncan’s happiness. He was in no 
doubt of Joan Darkmoor’s feelings toward him, but he 
was troubled vastly over her father’s plans for her. 
Young John Richmond had been sent for, to India. 

Duncan wished me to call upon the Earl and Lady 
Joan the next time I could get to London on leave. The 
Earl had expressed a desire to see me and to hear my 
story about his son’s death. I promised Duncan I would 
go. 


CHAPTER X 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 

I T was comparatively quiet along our Air Front, 
during May, considering the tremendous importance 
of the changes that were taking place on the battlefields 
on the ground; the great battle of Arras, which had be- 
gun on the day I had reached the Front, had been pushed 
vigorously on, through all these weeks. The British had 
won their ground, had retained it. The enemy had been 
severely punished, Germany was now clearly out-gunned. 
Perhaps the vast energy expended during April required 
a resting of men and a conservation of munitions. Still 
enemy machines crossed our lines; during all this beau- 
tiful flying weather, we found Fokkers constantly up to 
dispute our passage over their territory. 

Exactly six weeks after I had left London, I was given 
my first leave of absence. Old Bull was very strict about 
leaves for his pilots. Certain squadrons had certain rules 
concerning these leaves. Four days’ leave every six 
weeks for every pilot, was a rule that Stuart was com- 
pelled to obey, even though such absences crippled the 
work of the squadron severely. There comes a strain, 
after days of continuous flying through shell-fire and 
bullets, where every instant, one must be on one’s guard 
against surprise; where every combat depends largely 


154 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


upon coolness and good judgment. General Turnbull 
knew, from his own long experience, that it was simply 
a conservation of his resources, to give his pilots a change 
of scene. 

The same pilots who had met me in London, six weeks 
before, now were returning — excepting Fallon; Fallon 
had overstayed his last leave without permission, and 
Major Stuart had dealt severely with him. Fallon, 
much to his humiliation, had been transferred to another 
squadron, stationed on the Somme, near Perrone. It was 
rumored he had quit that and was in England. But 
Stuart and Ballou, Taffy Walsh, Feet and Wee Willie 
Douglas accompanied me home to Blighty, each flying 
his own machine. We crossed directly to Dover. Here 
Stuart and I left the others, and turned a little south. 
Stuart wanted to show me the site of his late encounter 
with his arch-enemy, Doctor Shubrug, near Ramsden on 
the Mole. 

Ramsden lay south of London some forty odd miles 
away. Stuart did not care to fly directly over the 
Doctor’s spinney, where his mysterious adventure had 
landed him, three months before. But he had described 
the place so ntinutely to me that I had no trouble in 
picking up the spot near the river. The Doctor’s house, 
I noticed, was quite remote from any others. Believing 
Stuart, as I did, I could not fathom the motives of the 
Secret Service of Great Britain, in refusing to believe his 
story. How could they account for Stuart’s possession 
of this code letter, except by accepting his story? And 
if they did believe that story, how could they account for 
the removal of the dead pilot and the crashed machine 
from Doctor Shubrug’s country place? I agreed with 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 155 

Stuart that the doctor used his political friends to good 
purpose. 

Again I found myself Duncan’s guest in Berkeley 
Square; and again we drifted into a life of riotous ease 
and dissipation. I scarcely found time to call at my 
bankers and to perform the necessary chores that needed 
doing. Stuart’s first evening was spent at work in his 
library; at least I did not see him again until breakfast. 
Immediately after breakfast he took the train down to 
Warwickshire, where his father and mother were occupy- 
ing their country house. He begged me to call that 
morning upon Lord Darkmoor, and he gave me a letter 
to Lady Joan, which from its weight, evidently had kept 
him up all night to write. He had deliberately forfeited 
his right to call at the Park Lane house himself; and 
now he desired me most urgently, to establish myself 
upon a better footing than he himself had with the Earl. 
I promised him I would do as he bade me, feeling, never- 
theless, that my main mission was to get his letter into 
the hand of the Earl’s lovely daughter. This, as it hap- 
pened, was the simplest thing in the world to do. 

A servant answered my ring and showed me into a 
great drawing-room of Lord Darkmoor’s London house, 
in Park Lane. The windows opened into beautifully 
green gardens at the side. I sent my card to Lady Joan. 
A few moments elapsed, then I saw her enter the room. 
She held out a slender hand to me, speaking my name 
with a sincerity that captivated me at once. How much 
of the kindness of her reception to me was due to the 
memory of her brother, what part of it Duncan was re- 
sponsible for, I did not stop to consider; I placed Dun- 
can’s letter into her hands, telling her that he had left 


156 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


London for a day with his mother. She took the letter 
quietly, but her eyes fluttered and her color came and 
went in a way that satisfied me as to her feelings toward 
the writer of that missive. To relieve her embarrass- 
ment, I asked if I might speak with Lord Darkmoor. 

“ Oh, I am sure he will be delighted to see you,” an- 
swered Lady Joan with the softest accent of Southern 
France in her voice. “ My father,” she continued, “ has 
been very ill. He loved my brother so. It is so good 
of you to come. We know all about you, Captain Adair, 
from — Major Stuart.” She blushed and dropped her 
eyes to the carpet. “ I will go to him, and tell him you 
are here.” 

She turned away with a friendly smile as I bowed. 
She was gowned in a rich soft black, which made her 
seem somewhat older than nineteen. Her slim figure 
was girlish yet full of dignity; she floated from the room 
with a grace that was very charming. 

In a few minutes she returned — without Duncan’s fat 
letter in her hands — and with a smile, asked me to fol- 
low her. As we mounted the stairway she turned to me 
with almost an affectionate intimacy and whispered : — 

“ Please do not mind my father’s sternness. He is 
very sad over Robert’s — death. My father did not 
wish Robert to go to the war. If he is disturbed and 
angry, do not think hardly of him.” 

Again I bowed silently, and we entered the Earl’s sit- 
ting-room. 

I found Earl Darkmoor seated in an invalid’s chair, 
with the sun from an eastern window shining full upon 
him. He was very erect in his chair, a gray lounging 
robe about his long figure, a shawl folded over his knees. 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 


157 


He eyed me keenly as I stood before him, his light blue 
eyes as clear as steel, as they looked levelly at me from 
below shaggy gray eyebrows. His face looked worn and 
strained. He was a man of sixty-five, or thereabouts, 
proud, stern, impassive. A valet was moving noiselessly 
about the room. Lord Darkmoor directed him to fetch 
a chair for me, then briefly asked his daughter to leave 
us alone. Lady Joan withdrew quietly; as soon as I 
was seated the valet followed her. 

“You saw my son killed?” demanded the Earl in a 
harsh voice. He stared at me coldly, and I thought of 
the caution Lady Joan had given me on the stairs. 

“ Yes, sir. He died in my arms. I believed you 
would like to know the circumstances,” 

“ You are very kind. Pray, proceed.” 

Unflinching and stony-cold, the stricken Earl sat up- 
right with his stern eyes in mine as I recounted the par- 
ticulars of Major Darkmoor’ s last moments to him. 
Harsh as he was, I could not but feel a great pity for 
him. I softened the rude details of my story as best I 
could. But when I came to the circumstance of the 
gold cigarette case, and the miniature, which I knew 
Duncan would not give up for the world, I was on dan- 
gerous ground. Not one word had been spoken about 
Duncan Stuart — but my friendship for him was more 
to me than any pity or consideration for Lady Joan’s 
father. Lord Darkmoor interrupted me for the first 
time. 

“ You say you found my son’s cigarette case with his 
name on it. Why did you not notify me, instantly? ” 

“ We did not know, sir, whose case it was. Only the 
initials were on the case.” 


158 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Where is this cigarette case? ” 

“ I gave it to my superior officer, sir, when I made my 
report.” 

The Earl meditated a moment. Duncan Stuart was 
so intimately connected at present with that cigarette 
case that I feared all the world must think of him and 
know I was trying to conceal something. But as a 
matter of fact, Lord Darkmoor doubtless had forgotten 
the trivial episode of Duncan Stuart’s request for his 
consent to woo his daughter. He had dismissed that 
subject as he turned his attention to the vast projects 
he had in mind for that daughter’s future. If he thought 
of poor Stuart at all, he did not mention him. 

“ It is no matter,” he said at last. “ I do not want 
to see it. I would have liked my son’s body brought 
home to England, however. If you had known, if you 
had made your inquiries sooner, I mean to say, this 
might have been done. Where was he buried ? ” 

“ I do not know, sir.” 

“ In some shell-hole, or trench, no doubt. Mixed 
with a hundred others. He would have it so.” 

To this I made no reply. Lord Darkmoor’s body 
relaxed as he turned his hard gaze from me. That he 
was agitated, pained, I had no doubt. The pride of 
this old man was a gallant thing to see, bitter as were 
his uncourteous comments to me. I rose from my chair 
and moved it away. He regained his composure with 
an effort, lifting haggard eyes to mine. Extending his 
hand he took mine and pressed it warmly, holding it 
until he had finished speaking. 

“ When you are a father, young man, you will know 
what this means. You are a soldier — just as he was. 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 


159 


You are to receive a decoration from the King, I am 
told, for your heroic work that day. Are you not? 
You richly deserve it. I thank you for coming to 
me. 

I bade him good-by, and left the room with tears in 
my eyes. 

Stuart had informed me quite casually, that he had 
a cousin, an older sister of Peter Willerton — living in 
Chesterfield Gardens, not a great distance from Park 
Lane. This cousin, Mrs. Noris, was, or had been, an 
old friend of Robert Darkmoor, her husband being a 
Colonel in the same Oxfordshire regiment. Peter Wil- 
lerton made his home with his sister, when he was in 
London. As we had landed yesterday, at Eastholt, we 
discovered Peter there, crutches 'and all. He was not 
able to walk without his crutches, but he could fly with- 
out them. He drove Stuart and myself into London in 
his car. Before we got out, at Berkeley Square, both 
Stuart and I had promised Peter we would dine with 
Mrs. Noris the following Sunday night — -two days 
hence. 

Now as I closed the door of Lord Darkmoor’ s sitting- 
room behind me and left him alone there in his invalid 
chair and his sunshine, I found Lady Joan coming 
toward me down the long hall. She led the way down 
the stairs. As I took up my cap and stick from the 
table in the hall, she again thanked me for coming; and 
then, as I was taking my departure, she said softly : — 

“ Shall I see you with Mrs. Noris for tea, to- 
morrow ? ” 

I stared my astonishment. “ I haven’t heard — ” 
I replied in much bewilderment. “ Sunday night we are 


160 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


to dine there, I believe; Peter Willerton asked Duncan 
and me to come. But to-morrow is Saturday.” 

“ Yes/’ she said demurely, “ to-morrow is Saturday.” 

Several blocks away, I stopped dead in my tracks, as 
the significance of Lady Joan’s remark about Mrs. Noris’ 
tea dawned upon me. Duncan, of course, in his letter 
to her, had suggested Mrs. Noris’ as a place of their 
meeting, at tea time on Saturday. Lady Joan’s question 
to me was meant to be a message to him. Of course 
I should not go, unless perhaps I might be of service 
in keeping Mrs. Noris, whom I had never met, 
amused. 

In truth, it turned out that I did go. Duncan, the 
following day, when he had extracted from me every 
syllable that had been uttered by Lady Joan during my 
call, insisted upon my going with him to Mrs. Noris’ for 
tea. Lady Joan was there before us. Mrs. Noris, I 
found, did not need me to amuse her, for there was a 
large party in for tea, and from some of them I learned 
that Mrs. Noris’ teas were a very well-known institution 
in London. I did not see much of Major Stuart that 
afternoon, until he came to me at six o’clock and said 
with a very self-satisfied air that we had better toddle 
on home before Mrs. Noris turned us out. Promising 
his hostess that he would be in for tea as well as for 
dinner the following day, Duncan slipped his hand under 
my elbow, and we walked slowly home across Berkeley 
Square. 

Neither the Flying Club, nor the Trocadero saw much 
of Major Stuart during his four days’ leave. 

On Monday morning, Stuart drove me out to the 
aerodrome at Eastholt, where we climbed into out 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 


161 


machines and flew down to Coventry. Landing on the 
field beside the factory, we left our aeroplanes in charge 
of a sentry, and walked over to the Rocket plant, a mile 
away. Stuart knew the ropes here perfectly; he led 
me through a maze of offices and buildings, down rows 
of sheds where guns and shells, motors and tanks were 
stored; finally we entered a long building of concrete, 
where a thousand wheels were whirling. He led me 
straight along through hundreds of women-mechanics, 
working like men, in overalls and sweaters. At the end 
of the building a small room was partitioned off. Inside 
this room we found a dozen men assembling a motor. 
One glance assured me that it was the motor for the 
Rocket. 

The next moment I found myself in the grip of a 
friendly arm. Twisting about I saw the grinning face 
of Larry Fallon, our old member of the All-for-One 
Squadron. 

“ How-de-do 1 , Adair ! ” he grinned, shaking me cor- 
dially by the hand. “ Home on leave again, eh? ” 

“Yes,” I answered. “What are you doing here?” 

“Ordered here, by Jove; put me to making motors, 
blast them. Stuart there fired me from the squadron. 
Nice come-down for me — What ? ” 

I glanced over at Stuart. He was talking to the 
superintendent and to an official from the War Office, 
but his eyes were fastened upon Fallon. I could see 
from his expression that he was not pleased to find 
Captain Fallon here. Evidently he had not yet forgiven 
him. I turned again to my companion, and pointing 
to the motor on the bench, asked Fallon what was the 
matter with it. 


162 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

“ Oiling troubles,” he affirmed. “ I told them all 
along that the vents were not large enough. They’ve 
lost more than a month now, fooling with the designer’s 
specifications. The motors overheat at half speed. 
That’s what they have put me here for. They ought 
to have had an expert pilot here from the first.” 

“ I have flown a Rocket a bit,” I said. “ My motor 
worked beautifully.” 

“ Certainly it works beautifully. Bradford, down at 
Southport, took out this rotten force pump, and put in a 
splash system for oiling. I was down there with Taffy 
Walsh, do you remember? ” 

Fallon laughed heartily at the recollection of Taffy’s 
exploit in the German prison camp; I could not help 
smiling myself. Stuart looked over at me and frowned 
perceptibly. Fallon went on : — 

“ First they made the cylinders too small. Thousands 
of them were finished and put one side before they found 
out their mistake. Then they corrected that but went 
ahead with the crank cases, without paying any attention 
to what Bradford told them about the oiling system. 
He put three motors in condition, and that’s all that 
we’ve had.” 

How did you happen to get this job?” I inquired 
curiously. “ I didn’t know that you were a mechanic.” 

“ Mechanic ? I’m nothing but a mechanic. My folks 
in Ireland tried to make a priest of me to get me away 
from mechanics. But it didn’t do them any good, did 
it, now?” Again he laughed uproariously. Major 
Stuart beckoned me to his side. I shook hands with 
Fallon fully understanding his reluctance to greet Stuart, 
and left him to his work. After an hour’s examination 


LADY JOAN DARKMOOR 


163 


of the problems of the new motors, Stuart and I took 
our leave. Fallon stubbornly kept away from our vi- 
cinity, nor did he speak to Major Stuart when we left. 
I waved him a good-by, and followed Stuart back 
through the long rows of clanking machinery. 

“ Here is a shed full of Rockets,' ” observed Stuart, 
stepping through a low door into one of the sheds. 
“Two hundred of them stacked up there, waiting for 
the motors. Beastly shame about that job.” 

“ Captain Fallon says it needs a splash system,” I re- 
marked to Duncan, “ and the designers are determined 
to have a force-pump oiling.” 

“What is Fallon doing here?” asked Stuart sharply. 

“He’s been ordered here to work with the engineers 
on this motor, he says.” 

Stuart continued to plod along the road in silence. 
We turned into the field and rounding the corner of a 
shed, saw our aeroplanes surrounded by a curious body 
of factory workers. 

“ I must look into this Fallon business,” muttered 
Stuart, as we approached the crowd of idlers. “ Won- 
der who could have let him in here ! The Rocket motor 
— of all places, that is the last. Doctor Shubrug ” 

“ For Heaven’s sake, Duncan,” I protested, “ forget 
Doctor Shubrug. You are letting him twist your brain. 
What have you against Fallon, except that he overstayed 
his leave? You punished him for that. You surely do 
not connect him with Doctor Shubrug ! ” 

“ I wish I knew ! ” was his deliberate reply. 

Stuart threw me one glance of such significance that 
I pondered over his meaning all the way back to London. 
He left me at the Berkeley Square house, and drove on 


164 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


down to Bolo in his car. I did not see him again that 
night. 

“ Arnold,” said Stuart to me in a sober voice next 
morning after breakfast, “ Doctor Shubrug did get Fal- 
lon that job.” 

“ You can’t mean it,” I exclaimed, knowing full well 
from Duncan’s appearance that he did mean it. “ How 
did you find that out ? ” 

“ Records, at Bolo. I suspected it as soon as I saw 
Fallon there yesterday. This Hun doctor, I told you, 
is a Director of the works that has the Rocket contract. 
Fallon has been there about a week. He got transferred 
there, from the Front, through the influence of Doctor 
Shubrug.” 

“ Doctor Shubrug’ s name appears on his papers ? ” 

“ Oh, no. He is too clever for that. Colonel Baird, 
of the Munitions Board, applied for Fallon. I saw 
Colonel Baird last night. He told me that Shubrug had 
recommended Fallon.” 

“ Why should Colonel Baird care what Doctor Shu- 
brug recommends?” 

Stuart raised his hands helplessly. “ Why shouldn’t 
he? He has known the doctor for thirty years and 
believes him to be the greatest patriot in England. He 
is his physician. He is everybody’s physician. And I 
know that he’s a damned traitor ! ” 


CHAPTER XI 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 

U PON our return to the Front, that day, Duncan 
notified me that he was determined to lay before 
Old Bull, our commanding officer, all his suspicions con- 
cerning the treachery, as he called it, of the London 
physician, Doctor Shubrug. The recent intelligence he 
had received, as to the assignment of Captain Fallon to 
the Rocket motor works, in Coventry, at the suggestion 
of Doctor Shubrug, worried Stuart immensely. He 
had run against a stone wall in London, when he had 
attempted to have the political authorities investigate 
the activities of this Doctor with the German name and 
German antecedents. Now, as a last resort, Stuart was 
determined to lay the whole story of Doctor Shubrug’ s 
activities before General Turnbull himself. If the gen- 
eral shared the London opinion regarding this doctor, 
then Stuart must confess himself in the wrong, much as 
it perplexed him. 

Accordingly, Stuart and I motored away from our 
aerodrome, taking the road south to Arras, on the very 
first afternoon of our return from London. He had 
telephoned to the headquarters of the G. O. C. and had 
received a cordial invitation from Old Bull to come 
down to dinner that evening, and bring me with him. 
To my great joy, I learned that Major Phil Pieron, of the 


166 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


French Air Service, the officer to whom I owed my first 
start in flying, was spending the night at the British 
Headquarters, and that we would see him at dinner. 
I had not yet visited our Air Headquarters, in fact had 
never heard exactly where it was located. Such facts 
are carefully obscured in war operations. I asked no 
questions but accompanied Major Stuart that afternoon 
with full appreciation of the interesting excursion ahead 
of us. 

We ran through Arras, noting the widespread devasta- 
tion that had leveled its walls until scarcely a building 
remained; we threaded our way through the one main 
street that had been cleared of stones and debris, north 
and south ; we left the town behind us, and still clinging 
close to the Front, sped swiftly along with an inter- 
minable line of guns, trucks and lorries, bound south 
toward Albert. Three or four miles this side of Albert 
we left the main road and turned still nearer to the 
front lines, where, quite within range of the enemy’s 
guns, we entered a dense though tiny clump of woods, 
where we were halted by a sentry. Stuart spoke a few 
words to the sentry. He saluted and permitted us to 
pass. Two hundred yards farther on, we entered the 
woods, left the car in charge of our chauffeur, and took 
our way on foot up a long and narrow duck- walk 
through the trees. Quite hidden from view within the 
forest, the low lying structures that housed the com- 
manding officer of British aviation, and his staff, lay 
before us. 

It was not until the dinner hour that General Turnbull 
came in, and with him I recognized at my first glance, 
my dear old friend, Major Pieron. After paying, our 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 


167 


respects to the general, I felt at liberty to grasp Philip 
by the hands. He had been the hero of many exploits 
with me ; he had been my constant companion and dearest 
friend through two years of fighting with the French; 
he had given me my first flight in an aeroplane; and 
he had been a fellow student in the old Verney school. 
More than this, Phil Pieron was a cousin of my room- 
mate and boon companion at school, Bunny von Bruck. 
And Philip Pieron alone knew of my capture by the 
Germans, of the part Bunny, his enemy cousin, had 
played in permitting me to escape from imprisonment 
and death. I had not seen him since the day of my 
meeting with Bunny, six months before. 

Throughout dinner, although I sat beside my old 
friend, I had little opportunity of conversing with him. 
The dinner hour was occupied with shop talk, this 
being a habit of the general’s, who talked aviation and 
the air problems of the war incessantly, by day and by 
night. 

The officers of the staff went their several ways im- 
mediately after coffee was served, leaving only General 
Turnbull, Phil Pieron, Duncan Stuart and myself at 
table. We adjourned to the general’s office, at his in- 
vitation, and there Stuart bluntly told him the story of 
his experience with the mysterious aviator who had 
crashed in the woods of Doctor Shubrug’s estate at 
Ramsden south of London a few weeks before. He 
outlined the details of the code letter; the report he had 
made of the whole occurrence to the War Office, in Lon- 
don ; the subsequent disappearance of the wrecked 
machine and killed pilot; of the doctor’s frequent at- 
tempts to allay Stuart’s suspicions; and, finally, of the 


168 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


fact of the repeated failures of the Rocket’s motors, 
now in construction in the Coventry factory, and of his 
discovery of Captain Fallon’s employment in the Rocket 
factory, upon the recommendation of Doctor Shubrug. 

The general listened attentively to Stuart’s narration. 
He asked no questions but smoked his cigar meditatively, 
occasionally examining its end with sage deliberation. 
Stuart finished his story without having been interrupted 
by a single question. And still Old Bull did not betray 
any especial interest in the matter which we had come 
to communicate to him. Pieron, who was our own age, 
looked his interest and sympathy, although his diplomatic 
position prevented his spoken comment or opinion. I 
maintained an absolute silence, of course, since I had 
absolutely no knowledge of the circumstances which 
Major Stuart was describing. 

“ There is something very queer about this whole 
affair, sir,” Stuart concluded. “ It seems hardly reason- 
able that a man as prominent and as respectable as 
Doctor Shubrug can be guilty of treason; but for the 
life of me, I cannot understand why some explanation is 
not forced out of him about that code letter — and as 
to what became of the pilot and machine that crashed 
on the edge of his woods that night. I am the only 
man that saw that affair — that I admit. But I know I 
can not be mistaken in what I saw. And I know that 
this doctor with the Hun name and the Hun birth, and 
with Hun relatives now living in Germany — I know 
that he has tried to persuade me to mistake what I saw. 
He knows he is guilty. Now, sir, what protects him? 
What influence has he to prevent an investigation of his 
doings? And what should I do further in the matter? ” 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 


169 


“ Doctor Shubrug is a powerful personage in England, 
Duncan. Did you say you questioned him, to his face, 
about the removal of the wrecked aeroplane ? ” 

“ I did, sir. And he had the effrontery to deny any 
knowledge of it.” 

“ And the code letter which you took from the pilot’s 
pocket — was that addressed to Doctor Shubrug?” 

“ No, sir, I can’t say it was addressed to him. The 
envelope was simply addressed to ‘ The Mole.’ ” 

“The Mole? What is the Mole?” 

“ Doctor Shubrug’s place is on the Mole River, in 
Sussex.” 

“ And is that the only place on the Mole in Sussex ? ” 

“ No, sir. I cannot say that it is. But there were 
landing lights there. The doctor was expecting* this 
visitor. He came out to meet him, but met me instead. 
He spoke to me in German before he saw who I was. 
Such a chain of circumstances, sir, is more than sus- 
picious.” 

“ And what was the code letter about ? ” 

“ It was rather vague, sir. It had some involved in- 
formation about railways in India. It may not have 
been decoded properly.” 

“Railways in India?” repeated General Turnbull, 
with a rising inflection; “railways in India?” 

“ Yes, sir.” 

The general smoked silently, his eyes fixed specula- 
tively in those of Stuart’s. Stuart returned his gaze 
respectfully without wavering. After a long pause the 
general remarked with seeming irrelevance : — 

“ I hear you are going to be married, Stuart. My 
congratulations.” 


170 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Stuart blushed violently, turning an embarrassed 
glance upon me and Phil Pieron before he made any 
reply. Then he laughed easily, and with more self- 
confidence than he had exhibited before. 

“ Thank you, sir. There are difficulties in the way. 
But may I ask you, sir, how in the world you heard of 
it? We have told no one in the whole world, except 
my cousin, Mrs. Noris.” 

“ Your cousin’s husband, Colonel Noris, dined here 
with me last night,” commented the General dryly. 

“ But I didn’t know it was a secret, or I would not have 
spoken of it.” 

Phil Pieron joined in the laughter that followed, and 
then he sprang to his feet and congratulated Major 
Stuart warmly. Phil had met Colonel Noris the night 
before and had heard the story, it appeared. Colonel 
Noris had told them of the officer who had been killed 
and of the portrait in the cigarette case. It was the 
strange incidents of this cigarette case romance, that 
had, in fact, tempted Colonel Noris to repeat the story 
of Stuart’s engagement to General Turnbull and Major 
Pieron the night before. And now, the last extraor- 
dinary element to this story was supplied to Pieron by 
Duncan Stuart himself, when he told him that it was 
I who had found the gold cigarette case as it dropped 
from the dead body of Robert Darkmoor — and that it 
was through this strange circumstance that Duncan had 
first met Darkmoor’ s young sister. 

Stuart spoke frankly of Lord Darkmoor’s refusal of 
his suit and added briefly that Doctor Shubrug was now 
in close attendance upon the Earl. General Turnbull 
was well acquainted with both Earl Darkmoor and Doc- 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 171 

tor Shubrug. He looked at Duncan with great affection 
in his eyes as he said : — 

“ I hope it will come out all right, my boy. You do 
seem to find the doctor stepping across your path some- 
what frequently of late. I am going over to London in 
a few days. Perhaps I can have a little chat with the 
doctor while I am there — and with the Earl, too.” 

And then we fell to discussing with Pieron the situa- 
tion of the flying squadrons of the French. There had 
been some friction between the British and the French in 
regard to air operations along the Front, and at General 
Turnbull’s suggestion, Phil Pieron had been attached to 
the British Headquarters, by the French, in order to 
help in the practical cooperation of the two forces. No 
other officer in the French service was so well qualified 
as he; none possessed so great a share of the confidence 
of the British flying officers. 

The German squadrons and their flying personnel were 
moved from one sector of the Front to another; now 
they were against the French, and now against the 
British. Both the British and the French kept minute 
records of these movements, which were often of great 
help in determining the intended plans of the common 
enemy. Often one headquarters obtained information 
which the other lacked. It was hoped that a closer 
liaison could be secured through the cooperation of 
Pieron, with his long and intimate knowledge of air 
operations of the French, and General Turnbull, who was 
similarly familiar with every detail of British operations. 

“ You haven’t had the Baron on your doorstep for 
some time, have you, Pieron ? ” inquired the general. 
“ Stuart, here, is getting somewhat fed up with the 


172 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Baron. He and the Baron spend all their time spar- 
ring with each other; it interferes with the day’s work.” 

“ Major Stuart can keep the Baron as long as he wants 
him,” replied Pieron, smiling* at Duncan amiably. “ We 
don’t want him on our Front! But from the published 
reports of the Baron’s victories, I fancied that he had 
destroyed most of the machines that you have sent 
against him. Are these reports true?” 

“ I can only answer for my squadron,” Stuart 
answered. “ In the last two months we have shot down 
eleven of the Baron’s machines against six that we have 
lost to him. Where they find all their victims is not 
clear to me. I suppose you have a check on that here 
at headquarters, sir,” he suggested, turning to the general. 

“ Well, rather! We keep a check on every loss, and 
every victory that our pilot’s claim,” returned the general. 
“ About one-half the German claims are false. It helps 
buck up the people back in the Fatherland to announce 
victories which never occur. I suppose the German high 
command has a theory that the publication of many air 
victories tends to frighten our pilots. Do you think it 
does frighten them, Duncan ? ” 

“ Not a bit, sir. It may tend to make the youngsters 
nervous when they get over the lines for the first time; 
but as soon as they get into a fight they lose all that. 
As a matter of racial temperament, the Hun doesn’t 
match up with us. Some of them are exceptional, of 
course. There is always — the Baron.” 

“ What is the history of Baron von Richtsmann ? ” 
Pieron asked. “ We have never been able to satisfy 
ourselves as to who he is, or where he came from.” 

“ The Baron is reported by the German press to be 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 


173 


a former messenger on the Emperor’s staff,” responded 
General Turnbull. “ He was in Russia, early in the 
war, according to our Intelligence reports. He dis- 
tinguished himself in 1914, in connection with one of 
the early engagements on the Russian frontier. He was 
decorated for bravery and later received another citation. 
My recollection is that he transferred to the air service 
in Russia; late in 1915, he was in command of a fighting 
squadron there. He appeared here on our Front a little 
more than a year ago — about May, 1916.” 

“ Yes, sir, that is about the record we have of him. 
Since his appearance here, there had been no lack of 
intelligence concerning him. But I am more particularly 
interested in his birth and family connections. The 
Kaiser made him a Baron in 1914, and gave him certain 
holdings in Prussia. But there is nothing to indicate 
his family connections, or his previous military training. 
He is very young, of course. His family name, von 
Richtsmann, does not seem to appear in Junkerdom, and 
practically nothing is known about his previous history.” 

“ I did not know there was any mystery about that,” 
observed the general. “ We shall see if our records 
throw any light on this. Come along all of you. We 
will go and see where the Front is to-night. 

“ It is getting near eleven o’clock,” added the general ; 
“ the evening’s reports should all be in. Every Corps’ 
squadron, along our Front, telephones in the exact line 
of our front trenches, from St. Quentin to' the North 
Sea. Each Corps’ squadron sends an observer out the 
last thing before dark; each squadron makes up its own 
map, indicating the changes in the front lines since yes- 
terday. Then it is sent to us here. All the reports are 


174 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

In, and our map is brought up to the minute by midnight. 
Then we telephone to Army Headquarters, to the 
French headquarters, to London, and tell them where 
the Front really is. This room here knows that im- 
portant fact before anybody else in the world. Take a 
close look at that map! You will find every road and 
every tree a foot high, located on it.” 

It was true! The most remarkable, large-scale map 
that I had ever seen adorned the long wall, giving one 
almost an aeroplane view of a hundred miles of the 
Front. As the general had said, every spot of ground, 
every ditch and hill-side was indicated plainly, in colors ; 
every road, every canal and railway was drawn in with 
exact fidelity to scale. The gigantic map was divided 
into squares about the size of a postage stamp. Each 
square was numbered; the reports were telephoned in, 
indicating the exact portion of each square through 
which the front line trenches ran at dusk each night. 

We listened to the captain in charge as he read off 
the jumble of figures and algebraic signs to his helpers 
on the platform. With quick intelligence, these helpers 
traced their sinuous lines of red, occasionally chuckling 
aloud, commenting over the successful advance made 
that day against some particularly difficult bit of country 
that stood out in bold relief upon the face of the map. 
The much vaunted Hindenburg Line was giving way in 
so many places that it leaked like a sieve. 

“ Here are the records of the Baron’s squadron,” an- 
nounced the general, taking a folder from a drawer of 
files, and opening it upon the table before us. You will 
find that each individual in his squadron has a complete 
record here of his activities on the Front.” 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 


175 


While Pieron and Stuart were reading together the 
data concerning the Baron von Richtsmann, I searched 
through the papers in the file until I came upon the name 
of Captain Reinhardt von Bruck. With something of 
a furtive manner I withdrew to another light to rapidly 
scan the personal history of my old enemy chum. Al- 
though I had planned a dozen times to write a note to 
Reinhardt, to drop it unperceived one day upon his aero- 
drome, the opportunity had never come; or rather some 
instinct of warning had prevented me in carrying out my 
design. And although a hundred times I had scanned 
the faces, the gestures, of members of the Red Noses, 
we had engaged in combat over our lines or theirs, I 
had never, as yet, discovered the familiar face of my 
old school fellow of Verney school. 

The biography of Reinhardt von Bruck was short, and 
fairly accurate. How such data had been obtained by 
the British Intelligence Officers, I could not imagine. 
Most likely through spies and by means of pilots who 
had been captured and questioned. Newspaper reports 
in German magazines and newspapers too, helped con- 
siderably in adding to the information concerning more 
prominent airmen of the enemy. I had seen Reinhardt 
but eight months before and had learned from his own 
lips the history of his activities in the war since the 
beginning. This history was fairly complete in the 
British files. What most interested me, however, were 
the subsequent movements of my old chum. For chum 
he had been, and was. We had taken our first flight 
together, oddly enough with his cousin, Philip Pieron, 
who was now standing in French uniform, a dozen paces 
away from me. I wanted to take Philip to one side, 


176 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


alone, when an opportunity should occur, to question him 
about his aunt and her family. But there could be no 
opportunity for that talk to-night. 

The record in my hand showed that Reinhardt had 
joined the Baron’s squadron in January of this year, 
1917. I had last seen him, late in September of the 
previous year. Then he had been on the French Front, 
where he had run a hazardous risk in taking me over 
the lines to my freedom. He had returned the same 
night to his own squadron, but I had never been able 
to learn, of course, as to what had befallen him. 

He was credited, by his own army, with one victory 
over a British two-seater machine, on January 21st. 
Two further victories, one of which involved a British 
observation balloon, were noted in February. In March 
Bunny had accumulated four more. And in April, the 
month of great activity along our Front, he claimed 
eight. I confess I noted this record of prowess in my 
old friend with something of pride, notwithstanding the 
fact that he was the sworn enemy of my country and 
his victories were so many fatal strokes against my own 
comrades. 

But the last of April Captain von Bruck was taken 
from the air and placed on the ground in charge of 
operations of the Baron’s squadron. His name did not 
appear again as claimant for further victories in combat. 
What could this mean! Had he gone stale? Had he 
been wounded and become unfitted for further flying? 
Had he heard of my appearance in Stuart’s squadron, 
and had he taken this method of preventing our again 
meeting in deadly combat? 

I returned to the group at the large table, and quietly 


A VISIT WITH THE GENERAL 


177 


thrust the sheets of paper I had been reading into Philip 
Pieron’s hand. He threw me a significant look that 
spoke volumes, but without another sign he replaced 
Reinhardt’s dosier with the others and returned them to 
their folder. 

Philip Pieron and I exchanged glances almost criminal 
as we thus read each other’s minds. We two knew some- 
thing about one member of the Baron’s squadron that 
all the Intelligence Officers in London had not been able 
to supply. That was the ancient bond of friendship 
that united Bunny von Bruck with Philip, a Frenchman, 
and with me, an American. Innocent though it was, 
neither Phil nor I dared disclose this attachment to our 
friends, the English officers of our own air service. 

Bidding our hosts goodnight, Duncan and I walked 
through the woods to the garage. It was a still, warm 
night, a brilliant three-quarters moon riding high in the 
heavens. We sped cautiously along the road back to 
Arras, no lights on our car, nor on those we met. We 
were both silent with our thoughts. 


CHAPTER XII 


THE DARKMOOR COMPANY, LIMITED 

W HEN General Turnbull had promised Duncan, 
some weeks before, that he would find occasion 
to investigate his story concerning the suspicious conduct 
of Doctor Franzel Shubrug at his country place on the 
Mole, Duncan Stuart felt that he had done all that he 
could do to place his accusations against the doctor in 
the hands of responsible officials. Of all the various 
persons in whom he had confided his suspicions concern- 
ing Doctor Shubrug, I, myself, was the only one, it 
appeared, who could be brought to believe in them. 
And my opinion was worth nothing to Stuart; I could 
only sympathize with him, only remain the confidant with 
whom he could exchange dire maledictions against the 
fashionable physician. 

General Turnbull was as good as his word. He had 
taken the time, during his short visit to London, after 
our last interview with him at Headquarters, to call upon 
Lord Darkmoor at his house in Park Lane. There he 
had met Doctor Shubrug, with whom he had held a 
long conference imthe Earl’s bedchamber. The informa- 
tion he obtained from the doctor put quite a new light 
upon Duncan Stuart’s romance; it appeared that the 
doctor’s sister was Mrs. Richmond, wife of Lord Dark- 
moor’s partner. At the same time it did much to change 


THE DARKMOOR COMPANY, LIMITED 179 

General Turnbull’s mind in the opinion he had had 
formed of the doctor, an opinion which had been based, 
of course, upon the story Stuart had told him of the 
aeroplane which had crashed that February evening on 
Doctor Shubrug’s estate on the Mole. 

“ My first bit of news will shock you, Duncan,” said 
our chief, as we were riding with him in his motor car, 
a week or so after his return from London. He had 
summoned us to visit the Headquarters of the First 
Army, where plans were forming for an extensive air at- 
tack in cooperation with a new advance of the ground 
troops. He had called at our field for Major Stuart in 
his car, and Stuart had included me in the party, with 
the general’s permission, in order that I might see some- 
thing of the British Army Headquarters. 

" I found Lord Darkmoor in a very feeble state of 
health. He has been sinking steadily. He told me that 
he would never leave his bed again. The doctor con- 
firms this. They do not expect the Earl to live.” 

“ He will certainly die if Doctor Shubrug has anything 
to gain by it,” responded Duncan with great bitterness. 
“ I am sorry I said that, sir,” he immediately added ; 
“ and I am very sorry to hear this news of Lord Dark- 
moor’s ill health. But you know, sir, my opinion of Doc- 
tor Shubrug. How did you find Lady Joan ? ” 

“ I did not see his daughter. But I saw Doctor Shu- 
brug. I am afraid, Duncan, that you have let yourself 
be misled in your suspicions about him. Better hear 
what I have learned — he went on quickly, as Duncan 
stiffened in his seat by the General’s side and turned 
an indignant glance toward his superior officer. “ I 
can give you certain facts about the situation there which 


180 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


I suspect you do not know. You had better hear me 
from the very beginning. It will help you to understand 
Lord Darkmoor’s harshness toward you, and you will 
see how Doctor Shubrug explains your animosity toward 
him.” 

Duncan remained silent. As the motor bounded along 
the smooth roads toward Morlancourt General Turnbull 
told us the story of the two London sailing masters, 
Richmond and Darkmoor, who founded the firm of Dark- 
moor Company, Limited, with its far-reaching enter- 
prises. 

General Turnbull concluded his narrative of his con- 
versation with Earl Darkmoor and the doctor with the 
words : “ After the death of Robert Darkmoor, the Earl’s 
daughter, Joan, was the last slim tie that might yet hold 
together his great schemes. The only way to preserve 
the Darkmoor Company was to marry his daughter to 
Doctor Shubrug’s nephew, Jack Richmond, now in India. 
And to this plan, Richmond had agreed.” 

I felt Duncan Stuart’s body wince, his shoulders 
tighten against mine. General Turnbull laid his hand 
upon Duncan’s knee. 

“ The doctor told me this intimate history of the 
Darkmoors, when he saw that I had your story about the 
happenings on the Mole. The Earl lay in bed between 
us. He confirms it, Duncan.” 

“ But what has this Richmond affair to do with Doc- 
tor Shubrug’s treason, General ? ” exploded Stuart wrath- 
fully. “ Do you think I am jealous of Richmond, or 
of this vile doctor? I know all about Lord Darkmoor’s 
intention to bring Richmond to London to marry his 
daughter, but she will never marry him.” 


THE DARKMOOR COMPANY, LIMITED 181 

“ Steady, Duncan ! The doctor told me these details 
to show me the basis of your animosity against him. 
Where the heart is concerned, my boy, the judgment is 
often warped.” 

“ But I told this German doctor he was a traitor, long 
before I ever heard of Lady Joan; before Robert was 
killed; before the Earl ever thought of having this Jack 
Richmond for a son-in-law ! ” 

The general turned his face away from us, looking 
long at the passing roadside. He was apparently turning 
over this information in his mind. 

“ You questioned him about the Mole, sir? ” 

“ Right you are, Duncan. But I did not know then 
of the — er — date of your attachment to this young 
lady. Better hear me to the end ! ” he warned as Duncan 
began an expostulation ; “ hear me to the end, then think 
it over.” 

Duncan sat with a stony face, staring straight ahead 
at the chauffeur’s shoulders as the general concluded his 
story. 

“ Lord Darkmoor destroyed his will and drew a new 
one a few days ago. The Earl himself told me this; he 
seemed to desire you to know these facts.” Old Bull 
grumbled in his deep voice as he cast a sidelong glance 
down into Duncan’s impassive face. 

“ Doctor Shubrug is to be Lady Joan’s guardian, after 
her father’s death, until she becomes of age. The docu- 
ment laid down in precise terms the wishes of the testa- 
tor regarding the marriage of his daughter. Upon her 
marriage to John Richmond, she becomes possessed of 
all the Darkmoor’s interest in that company; but if she 
does not marry him, she is cut off without a shilling, 


182 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

and the Earl’s holdings are left to Doctor Shubrug, as 
trustee for young Richmond. 

“ Now you understand, Duncan, the Earl’s harshness 
towards you when you went to him about this matter. 
What your position is, in regard to the feelings of his 
daughter, of course, I do not inquire. What effect her 
father’s last testament may have upon her, I do not know. 
I did not see her ; I could not have done you a good turn 
if I had. But I came away from London, I confess, 
with a different opinion concerning Doctor Shubrug than 
I had when we last spoke together about him. He, of 
course, denies the truth of your accusations. You have 
no corroboration. 

“ Do you still insist, Stuart, that your charges against 
Doctor Shubrug have nothing to do with her — and with 
his nephew? ” 

“ Upon my honor he is a great villain, sir,” exploded 
Stuart vehemently. “ I had never even heard of his 
nephew at that moment. I had never seen Lady Joan 
Darkmoor when I called him a traitor to his face. I 
did not think, sir, that you would ever charge me with 
false accusations.” Poor Stuart fairly groaned in his 
anguish and anger. 

“ I cannot say that Doctor Shubrug regards you with 
friendliness, Stuart,” went on the general in a concilia- 
tory voice. “ He insists that he is an old friend of your 
father’s, that you have abused him shamefully, simply 
because he happens to stand between you and your private 
and personal desires. He told me that you landed on his 
country estate one night, and that you charged him with 
some outrageous conspiracy, which he knew nothing 
about. I even questioned him, sharply, about the code 


THE DARKMOOR COMPANY, LIMITED 183 

letter you mentioned. He denies any knowledge of such 
a letter. He affirms, as I have told you, that you are 
bitter in your feelings toward him, because of his inno- 
cent connection with the Darkmoor family and interests.” 

“ General Turnbull,” said Stuart quietly, “ nobody but 
myself saw Doctor Shubrug there that night. I admit 
that. But if you will permit me to face that man with 
you by my side, sir, I will compel him to speak the truth.” 
This offer Duncan made with a calmness that was con- 
vincing to me. Greatly as I believed in Duncan’s side of 
the story of Doctor Shubrug’ s treachery, I could not fail 
to be impressed with the clever defense that the doctor 
had presented. With no actual proof against him, any 
reasonable person would be slow to believe Duncan’s 
story against so prominent and so powerful a man as 
Doctor Franzel Shubrug. Even the general had been 
swayed from his previous opinion by this interview with 
the crafty doctor. 

We sat together in a long silence as the car rolled along 
the smooth white roads, now and then coming to a stop 
as a sentry stood in the middle of the highway ahead of 
us, to examine our passes before removing the chain that 
barred the road. Even the general’s car had to obey 
the regulations that guarded this gateway to our Front 
against roving individuals in uniform. 

Finally we turned from the main road and entered 
upon a narrower way that led to' Morlancourt. Duncan 
Stuart, with his face still turned rigidly to the front, 
spoke to his commanding officer in an uncompromising 
voice. 

“Will you tell me, sir, which you believe — him or 
me?” 


184 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


The car slowed up as we entered the gateway, then with 
tooting horn threaded its way through the groups pf 
Tommies who were clustered about the buildings of Army 
Headquarters. The car stopped; we alighted. Stuart 
stood respectfully, but uncompromisingly in front of his 
superior officer, his eyes levelly fixed upon the twinkling 
gray ones of Old Bull. General Turnbull looked search- 
ingly into- the steady eyes of his favorite for some time 
without speaking. Then he advanced a step and put both 
his hands on Stuart’s shoulders. 

“ Duncan/’ he answered quietly, “ am I not a member 
of the All-for-One Squadron?” 


CHAPTER XIII 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


HE culmination of this singular romance of Major 



Duncan Stuart came but a month after our long 
motor ride with General Turnbull to Army Headquarters. 
Duncan had made another visit to London in the mean- 
time, but on this occasion I did not accompany him, pre- 
ferring to spend those few days renewing my acquaint- 
ance with my old French escadrille, which I received per- 
mission to visit on its aerodrome, a short two hours* 
flight way. I flew outside the lines, around the sharp 
curve at St. Quentin, and soon I was over the familiar 
territory which I had covered so many times on daily 
patrols during the early days of the war. My old squad- 
ron was on the aerodrome below Verdun; I found the 
field, of course, without difficulty. Few of my old mess- 
mates were still in the squadron, however. The nine 
months that had elapsed since my association with it had 
taken a heavy toll of its members. Some were in German 
prisons; several of the American pilots had been trans- 
ferred to Paris where they were assisting in the forma- 
tion of the coming squadrons from the United States. 
Some were in hospitals — and some were gone west. 
But with the few old friends who remained I spent sev- 
eral happy days. 


186 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Upon my return to the Independent Fighting Squadron, 
I found that orders had been issued moving us to an aero- 
drome just west of Cambrai. The Front had 'been 
steadily moving in for the past few weeks as the British 
advanced. To save time in reaching the lines, it became 
necessary to seek new quarters for our squadron nearer 
the Front. And still, the Baron’s squadron occupied 
the Caudry aerodrome, but twelve miles away. They 
were always our constant antagonists. Never did we 
make a patrol, never had we been sent upon a special 
mission, but that we encountered at some place along our 
route a formation of the scarlet-nosed Fokkers watching 
to prevent our passage. 

Duncan sent for me as soon as we had finished mess 
that first night in our new quarters. He had flown in 
from England, that day, landing just after I had come in 
from Verdun. Again we were in quarters that had been 
occupied for many months by the Germans. We had 
all our settling to do over again. 

Duncan seemed to be tremendously stirred up over his 
silent warfare with Doctor Shubrug; either that or he 
was much exasperated over the repeated failures of the 
Rocket’s motor. We sat and smoked until he had cleared 
up his communications and orders, and the last of the 
orderlies and officers had been dispatched from his office. 

Doctor Shubrug had made another call upon Duncan, 
and that was what he began to talk about as soon as we 
were alone. Grimes had brought in the doctor’s card one 
morning, the first morning Duncan had been in alone. 
After some deliberation he admitted his caller, partly 
through curiosity as to the doctor’s motive in calling, 
partly through his desire to badger the doctor into such 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 187 

anger that he might expose himself and give some clue 
that might be helpful to Duncan in nailing him. 

But Doctor Shubrug wore his grand imperious manner 
when he stepped into the room. Duncan eyed him stand- 
ing, not offering him a chair. The doctor did not wait 
for Duncan to speak to him. He told Duncan that he 
had called at the request of Earl Darkmoor to ask Dun- 
can to refrain from his attentions to Joan Darkmoor. 
The Earl had expressly forbidden Major Stuart to see 
her, yet more than once since that time, it was known that 
he had clandestinely arranged a meeting with Miss Dark- 
moor at the home of mutual friends. 

As Duncan received this information with a steady 
eye which expressed nothing but disdain for the doctor 
and his message, the latter went into details concerning 
Lord Darkmoor’ s mental condition ; he had had a stroke, 
he was in feeble health; his worry over Lady Joan and 
Stuart was putting him into a most dangerous mental 
state; if Stuart permitted this worry to continue, doubt- 
less the Earl would have another stroke, which the 
doctor believed would end his life; if such a calamity 
occurred, Stuart must take the consequences. 

Duncan received this warning coldly. He thanked 
the doctor for his solicitude with much irony. Then he 
asked him bluntly if he had recommended Captain Fallon 
for duty in the experimental motor factory where the 
Rocket's motors were being developed. He watched the 
doctor sharply as he fired this shot, expecting that he 
would either betray alarm at Stuart’s inquiry along this 
line, or on the other hand would admit his knowledge of 
the existence of the new Rocket machine. 

With an unmoved countenance Doctor Shubrug gazed 


188 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


at Duncan without replying for some seconds ; then with 
a sublime look of rebuke, he turned toward the door and 
prepared to leave the room. But Duncan confronted him 
and insisted upon an answer. Receiving none, Duncan 
taunted him, goaded him by repetitions of his charges 
that he was a German spy and a traitor to the King ; he 
recalled to his mind the German words the doctor had 
spoken to him that night the unknown aviator had crashed 
into the trees on the doctor’s place on the Mole ; he asked 
him where he had buried the German pilot, and how he 
had disposed of the wreckage of the machine; but all 
without result. 

The doctor appealed for Duncan’s good will by an 
allusion to his father and mother; he attempted to learn 
when Duncan was returning to the Front; and finally as 
he withdrew, he repeated his warning against another 
meeting with Joan Darkmoor, intimating that if he per- 
sisted, steps would be taken to restrain Joan’s liberty. 
With this parting shot, Doctor Shubrug left the house. 

Stuart, fuming with rage, but somewhat alarmed by 
the Doctor’s threat, immediately sought out Peter Willer- 
ton for a consultation that he had long had in mind. To- 
gether they motored out to Blackfriars Heath to interview 
Tommy Rounds. 

After an hour’s sorting out the “ queer ones ” from his 
other messages which Tommy had picked up out of the 
void during the past few weeks, he produced the trans- 
lations of these messages from his files, and the three 
studied them carefully, both in their original and in their 
decoded form. All of these “ queer ” ones, Tommy ad- 
mitted, were subject to more than one code translation. 
The Intelligence officials who did the translating, acted 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


189 


upon such information as they found without informing 
Tommy of the results. 

But Tommy himself, as Colonel Hull had stated, was 
a “ regular little bug” on these matters; Tommy had 
several ideas as to codes and inter-codes. Before Stuart 
left Blackfriars he thought they had discovered a clue. 
It was not much of a clue, it is true, but if he was correct 
in his suspicions, then it might mean a great deal. 

The clue consisted simply of the letter “ K,” which was 
used in two different messages to indicate an unknown 
pilot who was flying, or had flown the day before, to 
England. The dates of these two messages coincided 
with Stuart’s own recent flights to 1 England from the 
Front! 

The importance of this clue, if clue it was, did not ap- 
pear to Stuart to be the fact that it did refer to him ; but 
if it did, he was morally certain that the only man in 
England who would be interested in this information of 
his movements, was Doctor Shubrug! And thus he be- 
lieved that he was going to establish the fact that Doctor 
Shubrug was actually in communication with the enemy. 
At any rate, if it were not Doctor Shubrug, then some 
other individual in England was receiving regular infor- 
mation by radio from beyond the Front, in the enemy 
lines. 

Stuart could not spend the necessary time to get his 
suspicions verified through personal study of further mes- 
sages; but Tommy and Peter were now thoroughly 
aroused to the joy of the game; they promised to go 
through with it and to keep Duncan informed of their 
discoveries. 

Peter likewise promised to keep a watchful eye upon 


190 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Captain Fallon at the Coventry motor works, Duncan 
having become more and more convinced that Fallon’s 
efforts there were hampering rather than helping the 
solution of the Rocket’s troubles. Peter became wildly 
enthusiastic with his new commission and Duncan felt 
that he and Tommy would follow the scent of Doctor 
Shubrug’s activities like hounds on the trail of a fox. 

Duncan told me that he had never trusted Fallon; Fal- 
lon had been pressed into the Independent Squadron by 
the Air Ministry; in the entire three weeks of his work 
with the squadron, he had never been known to enter 
into a scrimmage with the enemy. This record alone was 
sufficient excuse for Stuart to rid the squadron of Fallon; 
but he had waited for a definite cause to ask for Fallon’s 
transfer, not wishing to invite trouble with the author- 
ities in London; consequently he had taken the oppor- 
tunity that Fallon offered when he overstayed his leave 
in London, and General Turnbull, at Stuart’s request, 
caused Fallon to be transferred to another fighting squad- 
ron of lesser importance. 

As for the Rockets, Duncan had found that the oiling 
system was still causing the delay in turning out the 
motors; months had passed while the engineers were 
studying changes and improvements in their system. 
The officers in charge were confident that they were over 
their troubles, and that another week would see pro- 
duction begin ; but Duncan looked gloomy and shook his 
head over the prospect. They had been promised in 
April, and now it was July. 

Of all Duncan’s worries, it was easy for me to see 
that the one affecting his heart was by far the worse. 
He was reticent in his talk about Joan Darkmoor at first, 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


191 


simply telling me that he had seen her several times during 
his stay in Blighty. But when I spoke of John Rich- 
mond, asking Duncan what further he had learned about 
him, I saw that he was wounded to the quick. 

Joan had told Duncan all she knew about John Rich- 
mond. She had never seen him, but she spoke frankly 
as far as her own feelings were concerned, quite infuri- 
ating poor Duncan, however, when it came to her views 
of her father’s desire to bring this son of his former 
partner to’ London. She would never consent to marry 
this stranger, even if all the Darkmoor railroads in the 
world went to smash, but she knew that her father had 
sent to India for Jack Richmond, and that his sole hold 
on life was this purpose to see Joan become his wife. 

“ She is threatened by the Earl, she is told by that 
villainous doctor that she will kill her father if she dis- 
appoints him,” Duncan blurted out in his unhappiness. 
“ Every day that beast tells Joan that her father’s life 
is in her hands. He tries to prevent her seeing me, but 
she is not influenced by that; they have sent for young 
Richmond. But it will do them no good. She won’t 
yield. I can’t believe it ! I can’t believe it ! ” 

Poor Duncan groaned in his misery; there seemed 
nothing to do or say to reassure him. 

“ Arnold,” he went on after a few minutes’ silence, 
taking the gold cigarette case from the pocket of his 
tunic and handing it over to me, “ last night we were 
talking about you, Joan and I, and she wants you to have 
this cigarette case. She thinks an appalling lot of you, 
Arnold,” said Duncan, his fine eyes lighting up with the 
first smile I had seen in them since his return from Lon- 
don. “We were in the conservatory at the Noris’s; 


192 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

Joan always gives a start when she sees this gold case 
come out of my pocket. It was her present to her 
brother, you know. Her portrait is in it.” 

I nodded. 

“ It was that cigarette case and that portrait that first 
took you to call on Joan,” I reminded him. 

“ Right-0 ! I remember that right enough. But Joan 
wants you tO' have it, and she has given me this!” 

Duncan took from his pocket a gold watch, and opening 
the back case he showed me a still smaller miniature of 
Lady Joan Darkmoor. 

“ And she agrees with me that you are to be my best 
man at our wedding, Arnold. Will you do that for 
me? ” 

“ With all my heart, Duncan,” I answered, grasping 
his hand. “ Cheerie-O, Duncan, and all’s well, as Wee 
Willie Douglas is always saying; everything will turn 
out all right. I will stand up with you wherever it is, 
and this will be a wonderful gift from you both.” 

“ She won’t marry me now,” Duncan’s face became 
gloomy again, “ because of her father’s condition, and all 
that ; the poor girl is in for an unpleasant time of it when 
that beggar gets home from India. 

“ I can’t describe it, Arnold, but I feel deuced worried 
over this situation ; I feel that there are things going on 
around me that are devilishly bad. I felt rather a nasty 
jar when I discovered that those wireless messages at 
Tommy’s telling about ‘ K ’ flying to England, might pos- 
sibly mean me.” 

“ It is more probable that ‘ K ’ is the messenger that 
is flying to England with communications for Doctor 
Shubrug — like that chap you found dead,” I remon- 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


193 


strated. " How would anybody back of the lines know 
when you are going to London? You don’t know your- 
self sometimes until an hour before you leave.” 

“ I thought of that, too,” Duncan replied. “ I don’t 
know, of course. It’s just a hunch, as you Yanks say. 
Peter will let me know what else they get with Tommy’s 
code. Well, let’s call it a night and turn in.” We said 
good night and separated to find our bunks. 

It was the very next morning, however, that Stuart 
sent for me while I was on the aerodrome getting my 
machine ready for a patrol over the lines. I hurried over 
to the end hangar where he kept his machine and there 
I found him waiting for me. His face was very grave 
and his premonition of serious disaster came suddenly to 
my mind. 

“ There is something I want to show you here, Arnold,” 
said Duncan softly. “Don’t go in just yet; slip in that 
side door; go over and stand by my machine. I will 
join you in a second.” 

I did as he directed. A few moments later Stuart 
joined me beside his aeroplane; it had not yet been run out 
of the hangar although all the other machines were out 
with pilots and mechanics busily engaged in tuning them 
up for their flight. 

“ Look there ! ” 

Duncan pointed down at the dirt floor beneath the front 
edge of the right wing. 

“And there!” 

He pointed to the* floor beneath the left wing. 

I walked around the propeller and stooped down to ex- 
amine the earth where he had pointed. A light film of 
powdered sawdust was freshly sprinkled on the ground. 


194 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


I straightened up and followed with my eyes the direction 
from which it had fallen. And then I saw ! 

Dull horror filled my eyes as I turned them upon Dun- 
can. He met my gaze with a grim look in his face; 
for a moment neither of us spoke. 

“ It's dark here, you see ; barest chance — my noticing 
that ! ” 

“ Who could have done it ? " 

“ One of the mechanics must have done it. Say 
nothing about it to anyone! I must think. of a plan to 
catch the devil.” 

Duncan walked to the right wing. He took his pocket 
knife out and. carefully peeled back the fabric that cov- 
ered the spar of the lower wing. It gave readily to his 
touch, showing that it had been very recently pasted 
down. 

Stripping back the cloth for. six inches, Duncan stood 
aside to let me see it. There, a few inches from the 
fusilage of the machine, the spar had been sawed two- 
thirds through ! Some murderous villain had deliberately 
done this work, craftily pasting back the fabric across 
the spot so that it would not be discovered! Enough 
strength would be* left to the spar to take the machine 
into the air, but upon the first strain, in a zoom, a bank 
or a dive, both wings would break away from the fusi- 
lage. This was cold, planned murder that had been at- 
tempted against Major Stuart. 

“ Who could be guilty of such a thing?" I cried in 
horror at the revelation of this monstrous plot. “ It 
couldn’t be any of our mechanics ! They are all old men 
of ours; could anybody else get in here during the 
night?” 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


195 


Stuart shook his head. 

w We have some new mechanics now,” he replied. 
“We had a dozen or more sent over from Supplies yes- 
terday to help us move in here. I will get Crack here to 
get us straight on this.” 

Duncan stepped to the door and sent out on the field 
to fetch Sergeant Crack, the head mechanic, to his hangar. 
In a few moments Crack came in, his sturdy face filled 
with inquiry at this unusual summons. 

Without explanation, Major Stuart directed the ser- 
geant to assemble every mechanic that had been assigned 
to this Number One hangar since we had moved in ; par- 
ticular always in his treatment of the enlisted mechanics 
under him, Stuart was a strict disciplinarian and his 
mechanics were a well-trained lot. Sergeant Crack had 
been with Major Stuart for more than a year, and as 
may be imagined, the sergeant who had charge of the 
rigging and testing of the aeroplanes flown by Stuart’s 
aces was immensely proud of the distinction ; it was not 
Duncan’s plan to reveal the infamous plot he had dis- 
covered to the sergeant until he had exhausted his own 
means of exposing* the culprit. Crack looked steadfastly 
at his commanding officer for some seconds without mov- 
ing. 

“ Sergeant, I want you to look over these new men as 
they stand here, and make a note of anything that doesn’t 
seem, right ; get them all here, every one of them ; have 
them drop everything and assemble here at once.” 

The sergeant saluted and withdrew. Outside the 
hangar we heard him bellow to the men, his hoarse voice 
rising above the noise of the roaring motors. In # a few 
minutes we heard the order, “ Laft Turn! Yeup! ” A 


196 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


long single file of dirty-faced, bare-headed men entered 
the hangar, swung about into line, faced the open door, 
and halted. 

Stuart slowly left me and walked out in front of the 
men. 

He stood motionless, in the open door of the hangar, 
facing them, his face perfectly calm, his eyes very bright. 
Some uneasiness in the line was manifested, every guilty 
conscience recalling instantly a recent infraction of the’ 
rules ; every man in the line knew that a “ ragging ” was 
coming. 

“ Steady, men ! ” bawled* out Sergeant Crack threat- 
eningly, as one or two heads began to droop; “ Left 
Dress! Front !” 

Eyeing them one by one, Major Stuart looked sternly 
down the line. Eighteen figures in all, stopd silently 
facing him. Back again up the line came that searching 
glance, resting for. a moment in the, eyes of each working 
countenance. Then after a short pause Duncan spoke. 

“ Boys,” he said, “ some of you have learned to fly, 
and some have not. This morning I intend to try to 
take my machine off the ground with a medium weight 
man riding on the wing.” 

Again he glanced swiftly along the faces confronting 
him. 

“ Sergeant Crack,” he directed, “ take Fane and Craig, 
and roll my machine out onto the field. The rest of you 
stand at ease.” 

The line relaxed as the two mechanics on the end 
saluted and dropped to the rear to execute the major's 
order. The machine was quickly trundled out through 
the doorway, and was placed on the starting line. 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


197 


“ Now, boys,” Stuart continued, something of banter 
in his tone, “ I am going to ask for volunteers for this 
first trip. Anybody who wants to go with me, step two 
paces to the front.” 

Like a squad at the word of command the entire line 
stepped forward two paces — the entire line, save one 
who stood in his tracks, the third mechanic from my end. 

Stuart’s eyes burned fiercely as they fell upon this 
sodden figure. He crossed the front of the line and 
stepped menacingly toward the wretch who stood trem- 
bling in craven fear, his head sunk between his shoulders. 
Stuart’s eyes did not leave his face as he came toward 
him; the mechanics in the doorway, sensing something 
of the drama that was taking place behind them, turned 
their heads to follow Stuart’s gaze. 

Advancing until he stood in front of his man, Stuart 
stopped and waited for some seconds for the, man to raise 
his head. At last he said sharply : — 

“ Why don’t you want to go in my machine ? ” 

There was no answer. 

“ What is your name? ” 

There was no answer. 

“ Sergeant Crack ! ” Stuart called, “ who is this me- 
chanic, and where did he come from ? ” 

Crack started forward around the left end of his men, 
and Stuart turned to look at him. At that moment, the 
guilty wretch gave a leap forward, and before we knew 
it, he had darted around the right, past the standing line 
and was running for dear life down the field. 

“ Get him, boys ! ” shouted Stuart. “ Don’t let him 
escape. Two of you take this motor-cycle and run him 
down.” 


198 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


It was a short chase. The fugitive had to pass three 
or four other hangars in his course, and other mechanics 
noting the pursuit tripped him up and sat on him until 
Crack and his men had surrounded and captured him. 

“ His name is Dongon, sir Crack reported, as they 
brought him back to us ; “ he’s a new bird what came on 
yesterday, sir. What shall I do with him ? ” 

“ Put him in the guardhouse, solitary confinement,” 
Stuart ordered shortly. “ And have the boys run out 
my other machine for me, Sergeant. We will put off 
this wing flight stunt until this afternoon.” 

Leaving further order for the immediate dismantling 
of the injured wings, but carefully avoiding making men- 
tion of the nature of their injury, Stuart prepared him- 
self for his patrol. Before leaving him to go to my 
machine I begged him to stay on the ground this fore- 
noon, urging him to take time to cool off a bit before 
going out on a patrol. 

“ Nonsense ! ” he retorted. “ It’s all over now. Lucky 
thing I noticed that sawdust, isn’t it? I never take a 
machine out without looking it over pretty carefully, but 
this fellow would have done me in proper enough, if it 
hadn’t been for that sawdust.” 

“ What are you going to do' with him ? ” 

“ Make him confess it, if I can get him to talk. In 
the meantime we will investigate his record and see where 
he comes from. I have private reasons for getting to the 
bottom of this, Arnold.” 

With a significant look, Duncan climbed into his seat, 
and I hurried over to my own machine; the others were 
all in their seats waiting for us. 

All through that day I kept a watchful eye upon Major 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


199 


Stuart. We had two or three brushes with the enemy, 
during which I took more pains to keep near Duncan than 
near the fracas. He flew in a distracted manner, and no 
one knew so well as I what it was that filled his mind. 

After a day or two, Duncan seemed himself again; 
and although he did not confide it to me, I had no doubt 
but that the news contained in certain small dainty en- 
velopes, postmarked London, had much to do with his 
heightened spirits. Again Duncan led the singing after 
noonday mess; again he dashed into reckless encounters 
in the air, handling himself with his old-time abandon 
and dexterity. 

The mechanic, Dongon, had been transferred to a 
prison in the rear, at General Turnbull’s orders. Dun- 
can feared that the mechanics of his squadron would tor- 
ture the miscreant if they suspected the real cause of his 
arrest ; as yet there was no proof against Dongon ; he re- 
fused to talk. His record was being investigated, and 
Duncan was confident that he would discover the mo- 
tives behind this dastardly attempt on his life. 

As a matter of fact he did, but his discovery did not 
come in the way he had expected. 

Several nights later Duncan showed me a black bordered 
envelope lying upon his desk, addressed to him in the 
distinctive handwriting of Joan Darkmoor; the letter 
contained the information that her father had died sud- 
denly the day before; Joan and Doctor Shubrug were to 
accompany the remains of the stern old Earl to their Dev- 
onshire estate where the family vaults of the Darkmoors 
were situated; she would return to London immediately 
after the burial. 

“ I wrote my mother to-night, begging her to persuade 


200 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Joan to come to her in Warwickshire/ * added Duncan, 
the old worried look again coming to his brow ; and I 
wrote to Mrs, Noris, asking her to take Joan there if she 
decides she must stay in London. I would fly over to 
Blighty if it were possible, but we have a big day on to- 
morrow — and for several days following. I can’t imag- 
ine Joan staying alone with the servants in that great 
Park Lane house, can you ? ” 

“ No,” I replied. “ She will be delighted to go down 
to Warwick, I am sure.” 

“ The Earl’s death will put an end to that Richmond 
business, now and forever,” said Duncan slowly ; “ but I 
cannot get rid of a worry about that doctor having a sort 
of custody and legal right in Joan by reason of her fa- 
ther’s will. You remember General Turnbull’s saying 
that he was to be Joan’s guardian? Well, that is the 
exact truth; Joan told me so. She detests Doctor Shu- 
brug as much as I do, but she cannot alter her father’s 
will.” 

“ Perhaps Peter and Tommy may have unearthed some- 
thing that will put a spoke in the doctor’s wheel.” 

“ I must fly over and see, first possible day,” responded 
Duncan. “ That’s something they can’t communicate 
to me in the ordinary way. We will be free here in a 
few days, and then I will take a flip over the Channel. 
But now let me tell you something of the job ahead of 
us to-morrow.” 

Duncan referred to his coming flip over the Channel 
quite as though there were no war on! I knew some- 
thing of what was coming on the morrow, and I could 
not help thinking how cheerily the mind gets accustomed 
to constant perils, and how little one worries over the pos- 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


201 


sibility of personal disaster. Duncan Stuart had certainly 
gauged the whole gamut of war perils, if any man had; 
so sure was he of his own ability and luck, he never 
deigned to give a thought to what Providence had in store 
for him. 

It was now well into July. The British advance dur- 
ing the past few weeks had given us Messines Ridge, the 
whole top of which had been blown off on June 7th; 
huge stores of explosives had been secretly carried in 
through tunnels and set off from our side of the moun- 
tain. Armentieres was now in our hands, as was Bau- 
pamme, Vimy and Monchy Plateau, Monchy the scene 
of the great catastrophe to our squadron when our four 
balloon strafers, Brooks, Sutton, Wetheral and MacKen- 
zie, went west on the second day of my stay with the 
squadron. 

Daylight comes early and stays late in this part of 
France; frequently we were flying until after eight o’clock 
in the evening. The coming day’s job, to which Duncan 
referred, was to begin before daylight, and was to last 
as long as a German balloon dared stay aloft along our 
Front. The fliers were to put out the eyes of the enemy 
for one entire day, so as to permit the infantry to carry 
out certain movements which were of first importance, 
which must not be interrupted. 

And a big day it proved to be! Fourteen enemy bal- 
loons and aeroplanes were destroyed by our squadron that 
day; on the other hand, our severest loss of any day’s 
work at the Front was suffered. Five of our fellows 
did not return. 

Duncan Stuart during this day of prodigious operations 
seemed possessed with an intoxication, an enthusiasm 


202 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


that instilled a species of madness into the whole squad- 
ron. He was everywhere at once, attacking blindly and 
recklessly, dashing into every opening with wild abandon. 
After two hours’ ceaseless fighting, he streaked it home 
to refuel, darting off again as soon as the mechanics had 
patched up the holes in his machine, to wing his way to 
the nearest spot in the sky where an enemy balloon was 
known to be still swinging. For once, Duncan did not 
stop to parley with the Baron’s red-noses, going out of 
his way to avoid them and seeking remote balloons where 
his coming would not be expected. Three balloons and 
two aeroplanes were shot down in flames by our leader 
. that day, and twice that number were doubtless put out 
of the game with injuries inflicted by him just insufficient 
to be credited as knock-outs. 

Coming home as darkness was settling over the land 
at the end of this strenuous day, I discovered Duncan 
some distance below me, gliding down to pay his last 
respects to the Baron’s areodrome at Caudry. Shoving 
my stick over I dived down upon him with my motor full 
out, overtaking him at a point less than a mile east of 
the Baron’s field. 

The Baron’s pilots were on the field, their machines 
standing in irregular groups where they had been as- 
sembled by the mechanics for the usual inspection after 
the day’s flying. Our sudden coming was a complete 
surprise to them; twilight had already settled down. 

Like a dart Duncan flashed into these scattered groups, 
both guns going in spasmodic short bursts which tore 
up the dirt about the feet of the running figures ; around 
and around the field he flew, twenty to fifty feet above 
the ground, banking now to the right, now to the left 


A FILM OF SAWDUST 


203 


as his machine guns sought out the depths of hangars 
and buildings in which the pilots and mechanics of our 
rival camp had taken refuge. A hundred yards behind 
him I followed, imitating as well as I could his tactics 
and his course. 

The aerodrome presented a deserted appearance within 
two minutes, one of the Baron’s machines blazing up in 
fierce flames from a hit one of us had made in the Fok- 
ker’s fuel tank; only the gunners at certain Archy bat- 
teries remained at their posts to dispute our possession 
of the field. Spotting one of these batteries on top of 
a low structure behind the field, Stuart dived suddenly 
down from fifty feet elevation, sweeping their platform 
with one expert burst from his guns. Two of the 
gunners fell from their perches simultaneously, the others 
jumping to the ground and racing to their dugouts before 
I could get my guns to bear upon them. 

Spiraling away from the Baron’s aerodrome, Stuart 
waved me a cheery hand and set his nose to the north. 
Following his direction I saw with a glance what he was 
after. A long passenger train was slipping past, its 
dingy little cars crowded with troops who were taking 
advantage of the first shadows of night to steal into Cam- 
brai. Like a shot we were upon them. 

Flying scarcely ten feet above the ground, we swerved 
our machines inward and raked the windows of the 
train, until forced to turn away. Again and again we 
circled the train, hopping the trees that loomed up in our 
path, dodging around them, darting in at every opening 
and riddling the sides of the cars with our fire. The train 
came to a stop ; the troops within the coaches flung them- 
selves upon the floors as we passed, rising to shoot their 


204 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


rifles into the empty air after our departure 1 . We saw 
the engineer diving under his locomotive for protection 
as we came along the sides of the train for the last trip. 

Flying homeward up the straight poplar-lined highway 
to Cambrai, we expended our remaining ammunition with 
great frugality upon the marching troops and road repair 
squads we passed on the way. At last, Duncan’s ammu- 
nition being utterly exhausted, he seized his signal pistol 
as we crossed the trenches, and flying at low elevation 
above them he shot six balls of red fire into the Fritzies’ 
faces. We landed two minutes later, the very end of a 
victorious day. 

But scarcely had we climbed down from our seats 
when we heard the sound of a motor above us. There 
was no mistaking the familiar note of that sound; it 
was an enemy Fokker. As we stood staring up into the 
twilight we both shouted simultaneously : “ It’s the 
Baron ! ” And the Baron it was. But he didn’t stop 
to entertain us. Something white fluttered down as he 
disappeared over our hangars into the dusk; one of the 
men ran and picked it up and brought it to Major Stuart. 
As we walked across the field to our quarters, Stuart 
tore open the envelope and read its contents. 

“ Another beastly silly challenge from the Baron,” he 
said, grinning ; “ wants me to meet him over the Caudry 
field to-morrow morning at six. ” 

“ Are you going? ” 

“Well ra — ther!” replied Duncan. 


CHAPTER XIV 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 

S INCE my discovery that Reinhardt von Bruck was no 
longer in the air, but was managing the missions 
of the Baron’s pilots as his Operations Officer, I had 
rushed into many encounters with the red-nosed pilots, 
and had left a mark upon more than one of them; but 
never before had I been down to strafe the pilots on the 
Caudry field ; all night long I could not help but feel some 
apprehension about Reinhardt’s presence there during the 
strafing Duncan and I had given their aerodrome the 
evening before. Reinhardt had borne a charmed life in 
his three years of air fighting on the Front, as indeed I 
myself had. I knew perfectly well that my German chum 
thought as much of me as I did of him, and I felt quite 
certain that he had deliberately sought a place on the 
ground the moment that he had learned of my member- 
ship in the squadron of Major Stuart. 

If true, this was a very generous act on Bunny’s part. 
I could not fully satisfy myself as to my own obligations 
in the matter, but with Bunny out of the way, I was 
free to ambush and ensnare every red-nosed Fokker that 
appeared in the sky, always with the hope that it might 
contain the jaunty leader himself. But with all my 
patrols I was never able to get to close quarters again 
with the Baron. 


206 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


When Stuart accompanied our formation, which he 
usually did, he rode at a considerably higher elevation 
than the rest of us. This was for the purpose of gain- 
ing the advantage of a diving attack against the enemy 
when we attacked, also for the precautionary measure 
of holding himself in reserve for the customary appear- 
ance of the Baron when the melee was at its thickest. 
The wily Baron had initiated this practice of lone hand 
fighting; rarely did he fly in formation with his own 
pilots; he was not visible when a combat began. But 
woe tO' the pilot who did not keep a sharp lookout above 
and behind, while engaged with one of the Baron’s air- 
men; at the first moment of inattention to the rear, the 
Baron flashed in from nowhere; with a single burst from 
his guns, the careless combatant was punished. Stuart, 
the better to protect his formations from this surprise 
attack of his rival, adopted the same tactics; he sat up- 
stairs and waited. 

Many were the subterfuges and tricks these two fin- 
ished airmen planned for each other; many were the oc- 
casions when their skill and vigilance saved the lives of 
their subordinates from the attack of the other. When 
Stuart and the Baron appeared in the dogfight, the rest 
of the combatants fought merrily on, their minds at rest 
over the possibility of interference from either of the 
leaders. Stuart could keep the Baron fully occupied in 
his own defense — the Baron never permitted his dan- 
gerous rival to take a moment’s relaxation from his own 
perilous defense; thus neither found an opportunity 
when the other was at hand, for participation in combats 
with opponents of lesser ability and cunning. 

So it was that occasionally the two leaders would drop 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


207 


a challenge to fight at some selected point in the sky, 
a challenge that neither would ever deign to refuse. 
Nothing ever came of these contests; but they served as a 
thrilling spectacle to the ground troops below and as a 
beneficial lesson to the pilots of the home aerodrome. 
Stuart, I know, thought only of the effect on the morale 
of his pilots his duels with the Baron must have. 

Before daylight next morning a strong formation of 
ten machines of our squadron was sent away under 
command of Captain Douglas with very secret instruc- 
tions; not one of us, excepting Douglas himself, knew 
our destination or the nature of our mission. 

Taffy and Babe were assigned to me by Captain Doug- 
las; Captain Foote led another flight of three machines, 
and Captain Douglas had four machines in his own 
flight; Foote and I were to follow Douglas in close for- 
mation; upon landing we would receive further instruc- 
tions. Thus it was that not one of us, save the close- 
mouthed Scot himself knew the slightest particular of 
what lay before us. 

It was with considerable surprise therefore that we 
saw Douglas draw away from the field in the gray light 
of breaking day and head away from the lines in a north- 
westerly direction. Close behind him we flew, always 
well behind the lines, a strange new landscape dimly 
outlined in the shadows below. 

After half an hour’s flight, we saw the sea on our 
left. Turning directly above the sea, we continued north- 
west, away from France; then shortly after, the city of 
Nieuport, in Belgium, was seen. We had come in from 
the sea to avoid being discovered by the enemy. Doug- 
las began to circle about searching for the landing field. 


208 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


He found it at last, and signaling us to prepare for 
landing, he glided down to a field well back from the 
coast, one side of which was lined with a row of wonder- 
fully camouflaged hangars. We were on the aerodrome 
of the Nieuport bombing squadron. The German lines 
lay only three miles away. 

No sooner had we landed than mechanics appeared on 
the field dragging with them huge tanks of gasoline for 
refueling our tanks. With them they carried, over their 
shoulders, a curious lot of objects which instantly ap- 
prised us of the nature of the duty that was ahead of us ; 
each cockpit was packed with an inflated automobile tire ; 
our mission evidently was to be over the North Sea, 
these were our life preservers ! We swallowed hot coffee 
and looked at each other wonderingly. 

Douglas summoned Feet and me to his side, apart from 
the others; we were introduced to Captain Mainwaring, 
the commanding officer of the bombing squadron. In a 
few words Captain Mainwaring told us that we were in 
for a raid upon Ostend, a submarine base of the enemy, 
lying some twenty miles farther up the coast. The ut- 
most secrecy had been maintained regarding this mission. 
Captain Mainwaring himself had not been told the ob- 
jective of the attack until half an hour previously; part 
of the Grand Fleet were to cooperate with us, or rather 
with the bombers; we were to fly fifteen or twenty miles 
out to sea, so as to approach the Ostend Canal from a 
quarter unsuspected, less closely guarded. Our fighting 
machines were to protect the slower bombing machines 
from air attack while they were approaching Ostend. 
This was a Navy show in which we were engaged, and 
Captain Mainwaring thought it was of unusual impor- 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 209 

tance from the extraordinary secrecy which had been 
maintained. 

His machines were warming up while we were talk- 
ing; soon a deafening roar came from the opposite end 
of the field where the great Handley Pages with their 
twin Rolls Royce engines began to move forward to 
take their positions. Before our blue-nosed aeroplanes 
had finished fueling, the bombers took to the air. 

I acquainted Taffy and Babe with the job ahead in a 
few words. Each had a caustic comment or two to 
make on the subject of our acting as nurse maids to these 
giant Handley Page bombers, but a fight over water, 
the alluring prospect of getting into close quarters with 
a squadron of duffers who would not suspect our pres- 
ence there, seemed to be particularly pleasing to them 
both. We took off quickly, and, before sun-up, we were 
well out at sea, a mile or so higher than the sluggish 
bombing machines with their heavy loads. 

As the light penetrated the morning haze, we began 
to distinguish the dark forms of moving ships upon the 
slate colored waters. Rapidly the visibility extended, then 
we caught our breath in wonder at the scene. In every 
direction, as far as the eye could reach, battleships, 
cruisers and destroyers were swiftly converging upon a 
common point, Ostend. It looked as though the entire 
Royal Navy had stolen up under cover of night for this 
Ostend show. It must mean a very particular occasion 
indeed. 

It was not until later that we learned the real impor- 
tance of this event; it was, in fact, the attempt of the 
British Navy to run a derelict battleship into the mouth 
of the Ostend Canal under cover of the fire of the Fleet’s 


210 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


big guns, and the heavy bombs of the Handley Pages, 
there to swing her across the channel and sink her in 
such a position that the submarines could not again use 
this outlet as an exit to the sea. 

The ships had sent out a number of planes from their 
decks, one or two sausage balloon? ere towing astern 
from their mother ships, and fr these lookouts, in- 
formation was telephoned and signaled about to the ships 
of the Fleet. We followed the course of the bombers, 
throttling down to as low a speed as we could, waiting 
for the signal to change our course and head back for 
the scene of attack. 

Soon it came ! The sun, from our higher position, was 
just touching the eastern horizon, although to the ships 
below, some minutes must yet elapse before it would 
rise to their view; Douglas dipped his wings and swung 
about; with beautiful precision, conscious that thousands 
of salt-water faces were upturned to watch our move- 
ments, we executed the maneuver and fell into place 
again behind the wings of our flight commander. We 
were headed for the coast; the bombers below us had 
quickened their speed, and the ships of the Grand Fleet 
were putting on full speed ahead for the great attack. 

As the coast line came more distinctly into view and the 
buildings of Ostend became visible from our elevated 
perch, we discovered that all this concentration of ships 
and aircraft to seaward had not escaped the attention of 
the enemy by any means ; flashes from the shore guns of 
the enemy began to appear in the haze; a few moments 
later we all discerned a rising flight of Fokkers, number- 
ing nearly twenty planes in all, spiraling upwards, climb- 
ing for a position higher than our own. They were not 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


211 


willing to attack the long line of bombers beneath us until 
they had first disposed of us. 

Wee Willie Douglas watched them with his hawk’s 
eye for a few minutes, craftily leading us still higher as 
we flew so that the Fokkers would be tempted to take 
more time to gain their required altitude ; every moment 
lost in their climbingncrould enable the bombers to creep 
so much closer to their targets on shore before being 
molested. When we had attained almost nine thousand 
feet, Douglas flung us a signal, leveling off his course 
as he opened up, and with engines full out we spread our 
machines into our several formations and rushed forward 
to the attack. 

The fighting that followed was fast and furious. The 
Heinies had not expected to find fast machines coming 
in from seaward ; for a few moments they appeared sorry 
they had come. Douglas did not wait for them to decide 
upon their tactics; it was evident that our antagonists 
were not veteran fighters ; they split up into two groups. 
Seven of the machines drew off to seaward, the others 
returning back toward land; Douglas led his formation 
so as to encompass the seven Fokkers, first cutting them 
off from their main body; then he dove upon them. At 
first rush he and his three pilots tumbled four of them in- 
gloriously into the sea. The three survivors climbed for 
all they were worth, all thought of combat vanishing 
from their minds. 

In the meantime the big guns on the fleet were replying 
to the challenge from ashore. With our swifter speed 
we had left them some distance astern. Looking back 
we saw a magnificent sight as the great fan-shaped flo- 
tilla advanced, a bone in the teeth of each fast-moving 


212 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


cruiser as she closed in towards the center of the com- 
mon target; sheets of flame were issuing from turrets 
and deck guns as the rapid bombardment began. 

I had led Babe and Taffy farther landward as Douglas 
had gone seaward against the smaller formation of 
seven. For the bombers were to my right, and some 
eight thousand feet below, while the large formation of 
Fokkers ahead was circling back toward the coast, quite 
obviously intent upon getting on the other side of our 
convoy. We had followed the Fokkers some three miles 
nearer shore, when I discovered another formation of 
enemy fighting machines flying at high elevation to- 
ward us from the north; these were six in number, 
evidently coming in from some more distant aerodrome 
of the Germans, Taffy and Babe had an eye upon these 
new arrivals, while Douglas and Foote, with their pilots 
packed closely behind them, all flying like one machine, 
were altering their courses to meet this new menace be- 
fore it could join up with the twelve Fokkers above Os- 
tend. 

It was a clear sky, the sun now beaming upon deep 
blue waters. As far as the eye could reach westward, not 
a whitecap could be seen. Our great caravan of bombers 
was lumbering along beneath us, flying in a V formation, 
a thousand feet above the surface of the sea. They were 
four miles from the jetties which marked the mouth of 
the canal ; as I watched them I saw the leader drop down, 
the whole formation following him, until from my level 
it seemed as though they were barely skimming the 
waves; this maneuver was evidently intended to hide 
their approach from the gunners on shore and to deceive 
them in their range. 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


213 


Sixty machines were carrying more than a ton each of 
high explosives and inflammable material, all to be de- 
posited at certain spots along the narrow sides of the 
canal where were concealed the defensive guns of the 
enemy. At the moment of their approach would come 
the greatest danger, both from the attacking aeroplanes 
and from the machine guns on shore. There was little 
doubt but that the Fokkers above us were waiting for our 
bombers to draw nearer the shore, the pilots not quite 
fancying the prospect of a fight over the sea, where a 
damaged control might drop them helpless into the water. 
The low flat land ahead was dotted with lakes and ponds ; 
no trees and little verdure grew here ; long straight canals 
stretched across the country, or wound their sinuous ways 
between low banks to the sea. There were few desirable 
places ashore for landing a crippled S. E. 5; if worse 
came, I should certainly try for a landing in a shallow 
canal. 

Above our heads we watched Douglas charge the six 
Fokkers as they neared him; Foote was bringing his 
three machines down to join me. The six diverted their 
course and turned sharply east to the land; making a 
wide detour they circled about again and made for the 
south, evidently intending to join forces with the other 
Fokkers of the Ostend formation. Douglas followed 
them on the inside of the circle, keeping his position 
some five thousand feet above the sea. 

As Foote came alongside us, we dropped down to join 
the bombers ; and just as we circled back to the head of 
their procession the German guns on shore opened fire 
upon us. We flew along with scant attention to their 
Archy, until shells struck directly ahead of us, exploded 


214 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

under the sea hurling upwards standing towers of water. 
We literally dodged these water spouts as we continued 
along at fifty feet above the waves, and soon we had the 
satisfaction of seeing these spectacular obstacles rising 
harmlessly in our rear. 

The British destroyers were emitting smoke screens 
behind us, under cover of which the mystery ship, with 
her gallant crew, was stealing up steadily toward her 
objective. Ostend was fully awake now. As we 
reached a point a mile or so from the little city, I saw 
that the Fokkers above us were preparing for their at- 
tack. It was now or never for them! Firing a single 
red light from his Very pistol, the enemy leader dove 
straight down upon us, without waiting for the coming 
of the six machines still a mile or more inshore. Doug- 
las and his three pilots immediately put their machines 
in to a steep bank. 

I could see considerable agitation in the rear seats 
of our De Haviland’s and Handley Page’s as the pilots 
and gunners of the bombers witnessed this headlong 
attack from above. The gunners stood up on their 
feet, elevated their machine guns, prepared nervously 
to open fire; but I could have told them that not one 
of the twelve Fokkers would succeed in reaching them. 
I had witnessed too many of these headlong dashes 
through a waiting line of our blue-noses to doubt for a 
moment the outcome. Our pilots of the Independent 
Squadron had been trained, day after day, by the most 
skillful tacticians in the science; they knew how to 
move together, how to feint together, how to bluff to- 
gether, as trained football teams play. The descending 
Fokkers numbered twelve to Douglas’s four, but the 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 215 

very clumsiness of their leader’s methods indicated that 
they were not in our class as fighters. 

Douglas streaked straight down upon the leader from 
the side. Behind him, his three pilots each leisurely se- 
lected a suitable target among the leading Fokkers, fell 
into a dominating position behind the victim’s tail, and 
with several short bursts almost simultaneously flashing 
from their guns, we saw the tracer bullets spin their 
trails of smoke like spider’s webs between the blue-noses 
and their victims. The leader and two other black- 
bodied Fokkers were falling in uncontrolled tail spins 
at the same moment. 

Douglas zoomed up and fell upon another Fokker 
before the pilot or his fellows realized their peril; he 
was unable to elude Wee Willie’s grip, and after a short 
passage between them, the unfortunate Fritz fell off in 
a side-slip, which did not end until his machine had 
crashed into the waves; abandoning all thought of fur- 
ther attack, the remaining Fokkers pulled up and headed 
back for shore, streaking away in several groups as fast 
as they could go. The six strangers who had ventured 
to come in as reinforcements kept their position well 
above us, and did not venture to come down. 

Douglas and his jubilant pilots chased the fleeing 
Fritzies for a mile or more, then dropping down close 
to the water they turned back and joined us. Guns 
rained shot and shell upon us, while our battleships and 
destroyers replied in like salutes to the enemy gunners 
concealed behind the embankments in Ostend. As we 
neared the wharves and jetties we were greeted with a 
consolidated machine gun fire for several seconds with 
telling effect; one of Captain Mainwaring’s pilots was 


216 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


mortally hit, his machine heeled over and plunged 
violently into the water; bullets sang through my wings 
and fusilage as I zoomed up above their range. Con- 
siderable damage was suffered during this short ap- 
proach, but in half a minute we were upon them, raking 
their positions with machine gun fire of our own, straf- 
ing the hidden nests until many of their guns were 
silenced. 

The bombers separated in accordance with prearranged 
plans, and began rapidly unloading their eggs upon the 
selected targets, adding hugely to the uproar, soon filling 
the streets of Ostend with smoke, fires and upheavals. 
Few combatants appeared upon the ground to dispute 
our possession of the little city. No interruption what- 
ever came from the cautious Fokkers overhead. We 
circled patiently about until Captain Mainwaring had ex- 
hausted his supply of explosives; then leaving the 
completion of the great Ostend mission to the destroyers 
and the crew of the obstacle ship, we again set out over 
the sea for our roundabout journey home to Nieuport. 
The Fokker Squadron at Ostend did not attempt to block 
our passage. 

Reaching the Nieuport field well in advance of the 
bombers we had the mechanics refill our tanks while 
we were waiting for Captain Mainwaring; soon he 
came rolling in. Leaping out of his machine he came 
running over to us, shaking each of us by the hands 
and thanking us profusely for our protection of his 
dangerous mission. Three of his machines had been 
lost, but none of these had been brought down by enemy 
aircraft; each had been fatally struck while flying at a 
suicidal low elevation above machine gun nests. As ior d 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


217 


the blue-noses, not a pilot had received a scratch, several 
machines, however, being rather seriously cut by bullets. 

Bidding our new friend a cordial good-by-e-e, we 
climbed into our faithful little busses, and started off for 
our home aerodrome, believing we had earned the rest 
that had been promised us for the afternoon. But 
little did we know that this day was to be the red- 
letter day in the Independent Fighting Squadron’s ac- 
tivities ! 

Flying at a thousand feet over the headquarters of 
the King of the Belgians, we crossed into France and 
headed for Cambrai. At a few minutes before eleven 
o’clock in the morning we landed, stretching out our 
legs luxuriously as we contemplated a long afternoon’s 
nap. Sergeant Crack came running up, a cheerful grin 
on his unshaven face, the usual look of inquiry in his 
eyes. 

“ Anything happened here ? ” I asked, as I cut off 
my motor and began unbuttoning my coat ; “ everybody 
back for lunch ? ” 

This was the invariable inquiry made before alighting, 
whenever a pilot rolled up to the door of a hangar. 
Crack knew that ten of us had left this morning; he had 
counted ten of us coming in. After a few casual com- 
ments the sergeant would ask how many Huns we had 
brought down, and whether anything unusual had hap- 
pened; but he knew perfectly well that he would have 
to give us his report on the situation at home before 
curiosity would be satisfied concerning our mission 
abroad. 

“ Major Stuart is still out, sir.” 

“ Still out where ? On patrol ? ” 


218 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ No, sir. He didn’t go on patrol this morning. He 
and the Baron had a party scheduled for this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Right you are ! I remember.” I smiled at Crack ; 
he grinned back openly at me. Crack never presumed 
beyond his position, but he was a devoted friend of every 
pilot in the squadron. Last night, I had entirely for- 
gotten it, the Baron had flown over here after his straf- 
ing to drop a note on the field addressed to the major. 
Crack had picked it up and had brought it over to us. 
It was the usual form of challenge that Stuart and the 
Baron exchanged periodically. When the weather was 
good and their inclinations agreed they devised some 
extraordinary form of entertainment for their pilots, and 
forthwith set about it. The last show had been staged 
over our own field the first day we moved in. Stuart 
had returned from London only the day before that 
show. The Baron had observed that our machines had 
landed back of Cambrai that afternoon instead of going 
on to the old field near Bethune. He had circled our 
field several times impudently scanning our new quarters 
from a very low altitude. Stuart ordered out his 
machine and had left the ground in pursuit, when the 
Baron, satisfied with his discovery, flew away for his 
own field. When Stuart returned he informed us that 
he had written out a challenge to the Baron, which he 
had dropped on the Caudry field, inviting the Baron to 
return that evening and fight him at five thousand feet 
elevation above our new aerodrome. 

And that evening, at the appointed hour, the Baron 
appeared. Stuart was awaiting him alone at the desig- 
nated altitude. They had chased each other about the 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


219 


circle for half an hour without firing a shot, until the 
Baron, tiring of this useless display of acrobatics, had 
dived downward upon our upturned faces, scattering us 
with a long burst from his guns, before he straightened 
out and flew home to his dinner. It was a spectacular 
exhibition of flying while it lasted. 

And now the Baron had politely requested Duncan 
to appear over his own aerodrome, single handed, at an 
even lower altitude, for a return game on his home 
grounds. It was staged for six o’clock this morning, 
which was several hours after I had left the aerodrome 
for Nieuport. We had quite forgotten the episode, in 
the excitement of our secret expedition over the North 
Sea to Ostend. As Crack recalled the circumstances to 
my mind I could not help smiling. 

“ Major Stuart has probably stopped for lunch at 
headquarters,” I suggested as I climbed out of my 
machine. “ Has he telephoned ? ” 

“ Couldn’t say about that, sir,” returned the sergeant. 

Britson appeared at twelve o’clock mess with a troubled 
expression on his face. We had quite forgotten the 
absence of Stuart in the joy of recounting to our mess 
mates the story of our exploit of the morning. Stuart 
was frequently away at lunch time, and Douglas, or 
Britson, upon those occasions, occupied his chair at the 
top of the table. But to-day, Stuart’s place was vacant. 
Britson sat on his right, Douglas on his left. As Brit- 
son threaded his way between the tables and reaching 
his place, pulled out his chair and seated himself, I 
saw Douglas lean over and speak to him. Douglas con- 
tinued .to lean across Stuart’s vacant chair, his long jaw 

extended, his solemn eyes fixed upon Britson’s face and 

i 


220 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


his mouth remaining open. Some sudden impulse stilled 
the room, and every eye turned toward Stuart’s empty 
seat. 

“What’s the row ab-b-bout?” stuttered Taffy in my 
left ear. I felt an apprehension in my heart that was 
nameless, but which seemed to freeze my blood. Brit- 
son was still looking at Douglas, and Douglas’ gaze was 
fixed in an immovable dour solemnity, that would have 
been comic under other circumstances. Simultaneously 
a dozen chairs were pushed back, and regardless of the 
waiting orderlies with their plates of steaming soup, we 
advanced to the major’s table. 

“What’s up?” demanded Feet sharply. “Where’s 
Stuart ? ” 

“ Hasn’t come in,” replied Operations. “ I’m worried 
about him. Left before six to fly over to Caudry. He 
ought to have been back before eight.” 

“ He’s with the general,” asserted Feet. 

“ No, he isn’t. I telephoned headquarters.” 

There was absolute silence in the room for a moment. 
We stood grouped about Stuart’s table, looking first at 
his empty chair, and then at each other. Never before 
had I felt so keenly the existence of the spirit of the 
All-for-One Squadron. No one had any news, or one 
would have uttered it. Silently we all waited for some- 
one to speak. Douglas relaxed his awkward position, 
took up his soup spoon in his fingers ; we turned back to 
our places without a word being spoken. 

Such an oppressive hour was never before spent in the 
mess of the squadron; even Babe, the irrepressible, did 
not venture his usual witticisms. 

“ Somebody should have gone over to Caudry to have 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 221 

a look,” Taffy suggested. “ We had plenty of time be- 
fore lunch.” 

“ A lot of good it would have done, looking at 
Caudry ! ” retorted Ballou. “ Do you think Duncan is 
sitting on the Caudry field, waiting for us to come and 
pick him up?” 

“ Someone ought to have gone with him this morning,” 
urged Taffy. “ What were our fellows doin’ on patrol 
this morning? ” 

“ I say, Hemmingway!” called Taffy to one of our 
Flight Leaders sitting at the opposite table, “ did you 
split air merchants see the B-B-Baron this morning?” 

“No! He wasn’t with his squadron this morning,” 
Hemmingway replied. “We ran into his bunch back of 
Lille, but the Baron wasn’t with them.” 

“Did you get over Caudry way?” 

“ No. Our patrol was from here to Ypres this morn- 
ing.” 

Stuart was accustomed to make reconnaissances deep 
within the German lines ; it was probable that some such 
mission had occupied him this morning; he may have 
stopped for lunch with some squadron commander with 
whom he wanted to confer; surely no pilot was better 
able to take care of himself than was Duncan Stuart! 
But it was odd that he had not telephoned in to us before 
noon ! 

We went to our huts immediately after luncheon, in- 
stead of gathering around the piano or sitting down to 
bridge ; the ten of us who had been up since three o’clock 
this morning had no thoughts of bridge or of music ; we 
wanted sleep. As I sat on the edge of my cot, Parks 
helping me off with my boots, I suddenly stopped him in 


222 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


his work, and sent him in to fetch Babe. Parks was a 
talkative person; to-day his thoughts were occupied, as 
all of ours were, with misgivings about Major Stuart. 
I shut him up and ordered him to leave me to myself as 
soon as Captain Ballou came in. 

Parks left my room when Babe came hurriedly in. 
At one glance I knew what Babe was preparing to do. 
He had left the mess before I had; now as he stood in 
my doorway he was dressed in the German Captain’s 
uniform that had once belonged to Captain Denike, of 
the Vervins Observation Squadron. I sat and stared at 
him for a moment, trying to fathom the rash play he 
was bent upon. 

“ Arnold/’ he said excitedly, “ I am going over in that 
Fokker machine, and land on the Baron’s field. I have 
thought it all out. If Duncan crashed there, or is hurt, 
we’ve got to find it out. I’ll be back in an hour.” He 
turned on his heel and started back for his room. 

“ Wait a minute, Babe,” I called. “ Come back in 
here, and shut the door. Now sit down and let’s talk 
this thing over. Suppose you get into trouble, how are 
we going to find it out? ” 

“ There won’t be any trouble,” retorted Babe. “ I 
played this once on Shillering, over at Mons, remember? 
Only this time I don’t dare take Taffy along in the 
two-seater Hanover; he might spoil it all.” 

“ But we need a two-seater ! Suppose Duncan is 
there!” 

Babe stared at me without replying. 

“ Babe, you must let me in on this ! ” I urged. “ I shot 
down this two-seater Hanover myself. It’s mine. Sit 
down, old boy, and let’s think it out together. You’ve 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


223 


got another German uniform, the one Taffy wore that 
day. I’m going to wear it ; and if Duncan is there ” 

I began to see difficulties ahead, particularly the dif- 
ficulty I would have in confronting Reinhardt von Bruck, 
whether in German uniform, or in British. I recalled 
the last occasion when Bunny and I sat side by side to- 
gether in our enemy uniforms, listening to the noise of 
the guns through the fog, speculating as to which side 
of the lines we were on; one of us was the prisoner of 
the other, but we did not know which was which! 

Bunny was there on the Baron’s aerodrome! On the 
one hand, his presence endangered the chances of my 
visiting there undiscovered; on the other hand, if I were 
discovered, his presence there might be a help. I was 
going as a spy, to be sure ; but not as a spy in the ordinary 
sense of the word. I was not after military information. 
As these ideas passed through my mind, I became more 
and more convinced that I, and not Babe, should visit the 
Baron’s aerodrome for information concerning the out- 
come of Stuart’s duel with the Baron this morning. 

“ You can’t get away with it, Babe; don’t be an idiot! 
The Baron’s crowd are not simpletons, like those Mons 
bombers! Now listen to me; I’ve got a plan you must 
help in; give me that uniform for Duncan, in case he 
is there, and get me Taffy’s uniform for myself. We 
will do this together, Babe, or not at all. 

“ I know one of the Baron’s pilots ! ” I continued. 
“I mean just what I say; Von Bruck, who was piling 
up victories last April in that squadron, is an old class- 
mate of mine from the Verney School, in Switzerland. 
We were there together, before the war was ever 
dreamed of. Chums, slept together, fought together, 


224 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and all that; he got me out of Germany once, when I 
was a prisoner there. I know him, I tell you ! He will 
do anything for me if it is necessary, but it won’t be 
necessary. I speak German better than you do; the 
Baron’s pilots do not know me as they do you. Now 
get me that Fritz uniform from Taffy while I am un- 
dressing, and hurry it up, old bean — we’ve got to be 
quick. I’ll tell you the rest while we are changing.” 

Babe came back with Taffy and Feet and a dozen 
others at their heels; my small room was crowded; all 
talked at once. But as I put on the two heavy uniforms, 
one over the other, and pulled down over my eyes the 
red-banded flying cap of the German Air Service with 
a rakish tilt to the right, my thoughts were busy with 
Reinhardt von Bruck, rather than with the advice my 
boisterous comrades were giving me. My short lip mus- 
tache was an ornament that I had cultivated since joining 
this English squadron. Bunny had never seen so dis- 
figuring a disguise on my face; the two uniforms, on this 
hot July day, gave me a swollen appearance that would 
deceive my most intimate acquaintances, the high collars 
tilting up my chin, the square shoulders making my 
breadth something enormous and comic. 

When I finished dressing, I took from my own be- 
longings nothing but my wrist watch and the thin little 
cheque-book, issued by the house of Cox and Co. My 
watch hands stood at one-thirty o’clock. 

“Now let me say a word or two, you fellows!” I 
entreated them, lighting a cigarette and sitting down on 
the edge of the bed to think it out ; “ I want an hour 
there, at least; a full hour. Then if you chaps come 
over at three o’clock sharp, you can’t do any harm, 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


225 


whether Duncan is there or not, whether I am there or 
not. We gave the Baron the deuce of a jolt yesterday, 
Stuart and I, on our way home at dusk; they won’t be 
expecting another visit from us so soon. And at three 
o’clock the Baron and his pilots will be out on patrol — 
we can almost capture the place ! 

“ Fly low and strafe everything on the ’drome with 
your machine guns and your bombs; in the excitement 
I may have a chance to get away if they do suspect me; 
at any rate I’ll learn what happened to Stuart, if the 
Baron got him this morning, why ” 

“You assass-ass-inate ’im!” counseled Taffy hotly. 

Putting on my long flying coat to cover my German 
uniform, thrusting the German cap into my pocket, I led 
the way to the field. In five minutes the Hanover two- 
seater was rolled out, her tank was being filled. Douglas 
appeared from the major’s office having been told what 
was afoot. He readily acquiesced in our plans, and can- 
celling the flight orders for the afternoon, he directed 
every machine on the aerodrome to be put in readiness 
for the fiercest strafing expedition ever fighting ma- 
chines undertook. In another five minutes I was in the 
front seat of the Hanover ; the propeller was slowly tick- 
ing over. 

“ Look what’s coming! ” Taffy Walsh shouted, point- 
ing across the field to the western sky. 

Every face turned upward; there, a distant speck in 
the sky, came the familiar silhouette of an S. E. 5, its 
wing outlines growing more and more distinct as it 
rapidly neared us. Every man on the field heaved a 
sigh of relief as the first thought struck us all — Stuart 
had flown across to- England, was just coming back! 


226 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


I cut off my engine and mopped the perspiration from 
my forehead. 

The wind was from the west; it was bringing him 
rapidly in. He did not hesitate to search about for the 
field, but with skill and precision he slanted down 
straight for the far edge of the field; with scant regard 
for the wind he proceeded to make his landing. 

“ It’s not Stuart ! ” announced Douglas, as the machine 
was still half a mile distant. 

“ Clever bird, whoever he is,” volunteered Babe. 
"You’re right, old Scot; Stuart would never set us the 
bad example of landing with the wind. I say, see him 
handle that ship ! Clever ! ” 

The S. E. 5 landed light as a bird, notwithstanding 
the wind on its tail ; the pilot buzzed up his engine, taxied 
swiftly up to 1 our near vicinity, his hooded and goggled 
face peering out from the top of his cockpit. The 
machine stopped a score of paces away; the pilot ducked 
his head down in his cockpit for a moment, then there 
appeared over the side of the machine, the ends of a pair 
of crutches. These were placed on the ground, to be 
followed by the head and shoulders of Peter Willerton. 

Before Peter could rise in his seat we were surround- 
ing him, plying him with questions, dragging him from 
his cockpit. 

“ I want to say something to Arnold Adair,” began 
Peter, throwing me an earnest look as he signaled me 
out from the crowd ; “ it’s urgent — and it is rather 
private,” he went on ; “ would you fellows mind leaving 
us alone for a bit? I’m in a hurry.” 

“ What in the name of heaven ! ” he ejaculated, when 
I threw back my leather coat and exhibited to him the 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


227 


costume I had on; then his face paled, and he looked 
at me with a frightened expression in his eyes. “ What 
is that for, Arnold ? ” he asked sharply. 

“ I’m going to make a little visit/’ I replied, pointing, 
to my waiting machine, the great black and white Maltese 
crosses painted on wings and fusilage in the most ap- 
proved German fashion. “ I was just about to take off 
when we saw you coming.” 

The pilots withdrew without a word, sensing that this 
sudden flight from England must have something to do 
with the disappearance of Duncan Stuart. Peter Willer- 
ton remained leaning over the side of his machine look- 
ing at me with unsmiling face. 

“ Arnold, where is Duncan? ” 

“ He’s out somewhere. We haven’t heard from him 
since he flew over to meet the Baron at six this morn- 
ing.” 

“ Then there’s no doubt about it. They’ve got 
him.” 

“ Who do you mean ? Who’s got him ? And how in 
the world did you know anything about it ? ” I hurled 
at Stuart’s* cousin. 

“ I’ve just flown over from Blackfriars Heath. You 
know Tommy Rounds, the wireless officer there?” I 
nodded. “ Well, Tommy caught a message this morn- 
ing, about ten o’clock. It came from Germany, that is, 
it came from behind the German lines. Tommy has been 
getting a lot of messages in this same code lately; he 
and I have been working them out on a different slant 
than they are doing at headquarters. Stuart put us on 
this job, some time back.” Peter spoke with frantic 
haste. 


228 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

“ Tommy telephoned me to fly over here and see if 
Stuart is missing, and I came. ‘ K ’ is for Stuart, right 
enough ! ” 

“ But the message — tell me, Peter, what is this all 
about ! ” 

“ There is something big brewing, Arnold. We don’t 
know what it is about, but they’ve been getting it ready 
for more than a week. Tommy has been getting the 
messages. They’re obscure. Stuart is referred to by 
the letter, K, if our clue to the code is right. The mes- 
sage Tommy caught this morning at the same hour 
they’ve been coming every morning, was, * K captured ! 
K captured!”’ 

“And you think it comes from the Baron! But why? 
And for whom is it intended ? ” 

“ Can’t say who it comes from, nor who it’s intended 
for, but Stuart himself thought K meant him; he was 
certain these messages in this code are for Doctor Shu- 
brug ! ” 

And Peter briefly related to me Stuart’s instructions 
to Tommy Rounds and to Peter, upon the occasion of 
his last visit to London. Far from having abandoned 
his investigations of the activities of Doctor Shubrug, 
after General Turnbull’s conversation with him, Stuart, 
as I knew, had started a private research of his own. 
He had enlisted the services of the wireless operator on 
the rim of London, and Peter Willerton, his cousin, had 
undertaken other investigations, at Stuart’s request. 
Peter had learned that these regular ten o’clock messages 
which came whispering through the air every morning to 
be caught by anyone who cared to listen, meant one 
thing when translated by the code used at Bolo, and quite 


A FLIGHT OVER THE SEA 


229 


another thing when translated by a code that Tommy 
Rounds had suggested. 

Stuart’s wish had been to discover some definite clue 
in these messages which might incriminate the doctor, 
before he again subjected himself to criticism and re- 
buke at the War Office for again suggesting that the doc- 
tor’s affairs be scrutinized. For some time reference had 
been made in these messages, to one K. Both Peter and 
Tommy Rounds had suspected that K meant Duncan 
Stuart, but they were not certain of this. And so, when 
Tommy translated the message received by him this 
morning to the effect that K was captured, he had warned 
Peter by telephone in London, and Peter had straightway 
flown across to us to verify his suspicions. He had come 
straight to me, since Stuart had informed him that I 
alone was in his confidence in this matter of Doctor Shu- 
brug. 

“ I have been flying over Ramsden, on the Mole, every 
evening,” Peter ended, “ but there never has been any- 
thing about the doctor’s place to attract one’s attention. 
Duncan wanted me to do this. But as a matter of fact, 
I know absolutely nothing against the doctor, except that 
Duncan dislikes him.” 

As rapidly as possible I acquainted Peter with the plans 
I had already formed for ascertaining the fate of Major 
Stuart over the Caudry aerodrome; Peter’s information 
had not affected the situation in the slightest degree, ex- 
cept to give us a hope that Duncan was merely a prisoner, 
and not hurt; and further to stimulate in us a desire to 
avenge him in a way that would long be remembered on 
the Baron’s aerodromes. 

I had lost several valuable minutes in talking to Peter. 


230 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Urging Peter to join us in our expedition, I ran back to 
my machine, shouting to Babe that Peter would come 
with us. It was ten minutes to two when I left the 
ground in the lumbering old Hanover with its Maltese 
crosses, and began to climb for a high altitude before 
crossing the lines. 

“ If I had only gone with Duncan this morning !” I 
groaned to myself in tune with the growling engine, my 
thoughts racing as I tried to fathom the meaning of the 
message, “ K Captured ! ” ; why did they call him K, if 
it was Stuart that was meant! Who in England cares 
to know that K is captured ? What could have happened 
to Stuart ? How was it possible that he could have been 
captured, not killed ! 

To answer these questions it will be necessary to go 
back to Duncan’s early flight across the enemy’s lines 
this morning, as he left to keep his rendezvous with the 
Baron von Richtsmann; let us fly along with him in his 
own machine. This is his story as I learned it later. 


CHAPTER XV 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 

Major Stuart's own story 

A T the close of an eventful day in July, as the last 
of my machines came rolling across the aerodrome in 
the twilight, and my pilots boisterous and jubilant and 
full of spirits, were standing, flying helmets and goggles 
in hand, recounting to one another the extraordinary in- 
cidents of this banner day of ours over the lines, the un- 
mistakable hum of an enemy motor was heard, distant 
and low-flying, coming nearer every instant, from the 
general direction of the Front. Every one stiffened in 
a listening pose ; every eye turned toward the east ; every 
breath was held, every ear attuned to* catch the menacing 
sound. Steadily it grew nearer, louder. 

Sundry distant shots barked out a staccato punctuation 
to its progress ; machine guns tic-tac-tacked, ceased their 
splutter; here, there, a siren blew; always the Fokker’s 
hum grew clearer. Finally zooming delightedly over the 
tops of our canvas roofed hangars which stood in a row 
on the eastern edge of our field, the Baron himself, in his 
scarlet-hued Fokker, flashed into view. Thirty feet 
above our upturned noses he passed, his long black and 
red streamers standing out behind his vibrant wing-struts 
as stiff as a pair of frozen stockings on a line ; in a trice 


232 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

he crossed our field, banking gracefully to the left as he 
disappeared in the dusk, skimming the ground with his 
left wing tip, redressing to continue his headlong course 
back to his lines. 

One white glimpse of his outstretched hand was all 
that we had caught of his person as he had flashed over 
us; but every one of my pilots and mechanics alike was 
sure of his identity. 

As he disappeared from view a sheet of notepaper ca- 
reened downward over our heads and dropped at our 
feet. A mechanic picked it up and handed it to me, 
grinning; “ Compliments of the Baron !” he said. 

CHALLENGE! SINGLE COMBAT! 

“ Will Major Duncan Stuart give Baron Von 
Richtsmann the pleasure of his company to- 
morrow morning at six precisely, over the 
Caudry Field! Altitude, ioo meters/’ 

It was the stereotyped form. Many similar messages 
had been exchanged between us in the past few months. 
The Caudry Field was the Baron’s own aerodrome, lying 
on the eastern edge of the town of Caudry, twelve miles 
from our own. Every night we flew home up this 
straight old Roman road to Cambrai, always making it 
a point to stop for a few dashes at the aeroplanes, me- 
chanics, pilots, who happened to be standing in view on 
the Baron’s aerodrome, bedeviling them with a sprinkling 
of machine gun bullets, often saving a small bomb or two 
from the day’s work to drop upon their officers’ mess 
as a practical reminder of our hostility; for they were our 
rivals at the Front ; every day it was touch and go between 
us. 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


133 


The Baron and I were particularly intimate enemies. 
Frequently we had met, always we singled each other out 
when our patrols met in a rapid-circling, flame-vomiting 
encounter, called in the vernacular of the air-fighter, a 
dog-fight — he in his bright scarlet Fokker, I in my blue- 
nosed S. E. 5. The machines were approximately equal 
in performance, each possessing some slight advantage 
over the other in certain particulars, but on the whole, 
balancing these advantages pretty fairly. 

At our first meetings we had sometimes jockeyed an 
hour or so with each other, waiting for an opening, or a 
false move, which never came; the Baron was the best 
fighting pilot I have ever seen; he knew the capabilities, 
the limitations of my machine as well as I knew them my- 
self. I learned after several meetings with him to an- 
ticipate every twist and turn of his fighting tactics. One 
senses the feel of an antagonist’s touch on the aeroplane’s 
control as consciously as one judges an opponent’s 
“ hands ” on the bridle of his polo pony. I felt with 
a sixth sense all that was passing through the Baron’s 
mind, as we careened around in a circle about each other 
in our daily combats, each vainly seeking a momentary 
lapse in the other’s cunning; there was no malignity there, 
I divined; no mean desire for revenge ever exhibited 
itself in the young Baron’s actions. I desire to certify, 
here and now, he was every inch of him a gentleman and 
a sportsman. I ought to know, for no other pilot along 
the Front has spent so many hostile hours in the Baron’s 
company — and lived. 

My first encounter with the Baron, which narrowly 
escaped being my last, gave me this esteem for him as a 
sportsman. The Baron had at that time won all the 


23 \ ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


decorations of his country for his exceptional skill in 
air fighting; he was known far and wide along our Front, 
both by the conspicuous color of his aeroplane, which he 
was arrogant enough to advertise and display, and by the 
numerous spectacular victories which his daring and bra- 
vado invariably accentuated in the minds of other pilots. 
I waited with considerable scorn for my first encounter 
with this noted adventurer. 

My squadron had been most carefully recruited for 
the express purpose of blocking the crack squadron of 
German aces that the Baron von Richtsmann had assem- 
bled about him. Upon occasions it is imperative that 
our airmen bring back photographs of enemy territory; 
sometimes it is imperative that no enemy machines be 
permitted to cross our lines while our own secret prepa- 
rations for an attack are being made; hence it was un- 
avoidable and natural that the Baron’s squadron and 
mine should be constantly facing each other, that our en- 
counters should be frequent. 

Our first exchange of courtesies began shortly after 
the formation of my Independent Squadron. Believing 
that German courage in the air was as scarce as German 
imagination, I approached the Baron on our first en- 
counter with the minimum of preliminary maneuvering 
on my part ; I circled him once or twice to assure myself 
that this was indeed the boasted champion of the enemy’s 
air fighters, then adopting the manoeuvre that had brought 
me many previous victories in combats, I charged him, 
headlong. Always hitherto I had observed that if I 
held on long enough, my antagonist would yield me the 
path, to avoid collision; the moment he yielded, I had 
him at a disadvantage. 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


235 


But the Baron was made in a mold different from my 
previous victims; as I charged him head on at two hun- 
dred yards, our machines approaching each other at ter- 
rific velocity, I discerned not the slightest wavering in 
the course of the German champion; it was quite in- 
stinctively that I swerved beneath him in passing; as I 
came about with an upward zoom, I felt a series of rapid 
shocks beating a tattoo upon the body of my machine. 
The Baron had exactly estimated my next manoeuvre, and 
before I had the first intimation of his superior position, 
I felt his bullets passing through my cockpit and engine. 
A moment later my fuel tank burst with a sickening 
sound, a sheet of flame from the engine scorching my 
face. 

We were at an altitude of seven thousand feet, and as 
it happened, we were a mile inside of the British lines. 
I paid no further attention to the Baron, or to his pilots 
who were in the vicinity, but snapping off my belt-fasten- 
ing, I kicked over my rudder with my foot jamming 
enough of the cartridge belt under it to hold it in place. 
I threw my left leg outside the cockpit, eased most of my 
body after it, holding on in a perilous position to the 
edge of the rim with one hand and one foot. The ma- 
chine side-slipped broadly away to the left causing a rush- 
ing wind to carry the flames upward to the right. 

Scarcely had I satisfied myself with the dubious security 
of these arrangements, when two of the Baron’s pilots 
flew mercilessly in to give me the coup-de-grace. Their 
tracer bullets drew nearer and nearer to me as I watched 
them from my defenseless position. A scarlet streak 
suddenly passed between me and them, a short angry 
burst from the Baron’s guns warned his outlaw pilots to 


236 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


withdraw. It was indeed the Baron who had come to 
my rescue. He had helped an enemy, but at the same 
time a fellow airman who was battling for his life against 
fire — the common feared enemy of all aviators. 

Hostilities were suspended while I persevered in my 
efforts to avoid the flames, at the same time to keep my 
weakening craft under control ; fortunately I reached the 
ground and crashed, unhurt, before my wings gave way. 

Thus it was that between the Baron and myself a long 
series of polite personal encounters ensued; a polished 
honorable sort of fighting code prevailed between our 
squadrons. Carefully we planned ambushes and man- 
traps for the red-noses, brilliantly we executed these plans 
to the discomfiture of the Baron’s pilots; frequently we 
were taken in ourselves. Both sides had losses; both 
were occasionally soundly whipped; but in all our sub- 
sequent personal engagements, neither the Baron nor I 
ever succeeded in breaking through the other’s guard. 

Weeks passed; I moved my squadron from place to 
place in response to the demands of the war. With every 
move we made along the Front, hardly a day would pass 
before we found the Baron had learned of our departure 
and again we were opposed by the red-nosed Fokkers. 
Encounters between us became constant ; the big war, as 
a whole, seemed trivial and remote in comparison with 
our more important private rivalry with the Baron and 
his pilots. There is an alluring passion for this game of 
air fighting which keeps the pilots keen as mustard, men- 
tally exhausting as such excitement is. We watched for 
the published successes of the Baron and his pilots as 
they were credited periodically by the German army ; our 
own victories were not given out officially, but the pri- 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


237 


vate records of the squadron informed us correctly that 
we were more than holding our own with the Baron’s 
celebrated crew. 

I accepted the Baron’s challenge for a fight at low alti- 
tude over his own field this morning, of course, but 
through a curious succession of circumstances and wor- 
ries that had nothing to do with the war, my brain this 
morning was in a whirl. It was not from fear or from 
nervousness that my mind seemed dull and the pleasure 
of the coming contest seemed lacking; I was preoccupied 
with a puzzling worry over the contents of a letter that 
I had found waiting for me in my quarters as I entered 
last night with the Baron’s brief challenge in my fingers. 
And now as I left my field and flew toward the rising 
sun on this lovely July morning, I felt oppressed with an 
unreasoning dread, a dread which had accumulated over 
night and which emanated from between the lines of this 
letter received from the person nearest and dearest to me 
in this whole world. 

Lady Joan Darkmoor and I were to have been quietly 
married a fortnight before, when Earl Darkmoor, her 
father, suffered a collapse in his strength, uncon- 
sciously postponing by his feebleness the ceremony of his 
daughter’s marriage to me, which he knew he was power- 
less to prevent. I am certain I was no less incredulous 
than her father when Joan made known her decision to 
sacrifice her fortune, to accept the estrangement her father 
threatened, in order to become my wife. Lord Darkmoor 
had no aversion to me, as it happened ; he was actuated 
simply by an overwhelming desire that his sole heir should 
marry John Richmond, the son of his former business 
partner, thus to keep united the interests that these two 


238 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


families had spent a century in accumulating. He loved 
the gigantic power his railroads had given him; his 
daughter loved better her love for me. 

Lord Darkmoor had died within the last week, leaving 
his daughter under the guardianship of his friend and 
physician, Doctor Franzel Shubrug. 

Joan’s letter, last night, had been written some hours 
after her return to London from Devonshire, where had 
been taken the body of the old Earl for burial. It was 
not what she wrote, but what she left unwritten that had 
tormented my mind and heart through the night ; she had 
cautioned me not to attempt to find her, if by chance I 
should happen to return to London on leave! Is it odd 
that I should spend a sleepless night worrying over such 
a puzzling message as this! She knew I would over- 
turn every house in London to find her — none could 
know it better. 

I feared Doctor Shubrug with an exaggerated estimate 
of his power. Perhaps my tortured thoughts overesti- 
mated his talent for wrong doing, perhaps not; but his 
present position of authority over Joan Darkmoor’s per- 
son was sufficient to fill me with foreboding. 

As to Jack Richmond, I felt no uneasiness whatever. 
Joan was forever freed by her father’s death from fur- 
ther fears of his suit. 

Jack Richmond, the only son and heir of Lord Dark- 
moor’s partner, was born an Englishman, but he had spent 
most of his life in India and on the continent. After 
the war broke out he had taken a commission in one of 
the regiments then in India, and his regiment was now 
in the Far East; I had never met this young nephew of 
the doctor’s, but many stories of his wildness and extrav- 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


239 


agance had come to my ears, mainly through the reluc- 
tant admissions of Lady Joan herself, if the truth must 
be told. Young Richmond had inherited his father’s 
shares in the Company’s holdings, and he was, by reason 
of this interest, the nominal head of the Company in 
India. The Earl had sent for him to come to England 
less than a month before his death, but so far as I had 
learned, no response had come from Richmond to this 
request. 

As I flew onward toward Caudry and the Baron, I 
grew into a rage with myself, with my ceaseless exasper- 
ation over this villainous doctor ; I felt that I was growing 
stale with work and excitement; I must control my 
thoughts, turn them away from Joan and the Doctor, 
concentrate them upon my present business. 

This spurring excitement of the chase had left me 
overstrung; nothing seemed joyous and exulting to my 
soul, except at the moment of combat ; then the free- 
dom of the vast skies encompasses one — sweeping like 
a rocket, up — up into the limitless blue — falling like a 
shot into a tight corner where quickness of mind, sure- 
ness of touch, are all that stand between life and death 
— now darting, tumbling through clean sheer air. The 
heated brain becomes cooled and soothed by this glorious 
lust of the chase. No other athletic passion can rival it; 
and to me no exercise was so sporting as a tourney with 
my old rival, the Baron. 

The scene below my wings, this morning as I flew to 
meet the Baron, the emotions that possessed me, had the 
familiar earmarks of a situation that was becoming mo- 
notonous. The Baron and I had languidly ambushed 
each other in the clouds, time without number; we had 


240 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


repeatedly played possums to within a hundred feet 
of the ground, warily watching each other to detect the 
first symptoms of an opening that seemed promising; 
we had framed onslaughts in the dazzling sun, trusting 
vainly that human eyes could not search out that blind- 
ing glare to discover a moving speck; we had treated 
each other to experiments in a score of new and unsus- 
pected implements of destruction; but never had come 
the chance for a knockout. 

Hence I was unable to summon forth a great amount 
of interest in this morning’s encounter; I would meet 
the Baron, simply for the effect it would have upon the 
members of his squadron, upon the members of my own ; 
after a few minutes’ manoeuvring I would wave him a 
good-by and go home; I had had a sleepless night. 

Subconsciously I was aware that my engine sounded 
true as I circled my field and climbed aloft ; but my mind 
was full of Doctor Shubrug and the evil influence he 
might possess over Lady Joan. Mechanically I swept 
with one glance the heavens behind me, to locate any 
loitering enemy machines that might hope to jump down 
upon me from a position upstairs; nobody there! The 
thought of poor Joan writing me that letter under com- 
pulsion occupied the front part of my brain; that idea 
was absurd, of course. 

A look over the side as I crossed the lines informed me 
that the enemy observation balloons were just getting 
aloft for their day’s work; one was swinging easily at 
the end of its tether a short distance to my left and ahead ; 
it was pulled down with comic haste as the occupant dis- 
cerned my blue-nosed machine headed over the lines. 
Men stood shooting at me from the dewy grass ! I won- 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


241 


dered if Joan might be drinking in this clear dewy sun- 
shine on my father’s place, Fairmede, in Warwickshire. 
Could her letter to me have been a joke? 

From my low altitude the rising sun now tipped the 
crest of the hills beyond Caudry. I was flying levelly 
into its blinding glare. With instinctive premonition I 
eased away from my course, vaguely impressed with the 
feeling that I should first locate the position of my 
coming antagonist before permitting my thoughts to 
wander off again to Joan. He must soon be rising up 
to meet me; already I was passing over the housetops 
of Caudry. I looked down over the side and saw the 
Baron’s field before me. Where was the debonair von 
Richtsmann ? It lacked but four minutes of the hour he 
had set. 

A hurricane of splinters about my ears coincided with 
a horrible jolting of my machine. Instantly I cut off 
the spark, my heart in my throat, every nerve on keen 
edge. My propeller blade had been shattered. Odd 
fragments of wood richocheted and boomeranged past my 
head. Instinctively I zoomed up and fell over on my 
side, knowing without seeing him, that my enemy was 
near. It must have required a shot gun charge to have 
fractured my propeller like that ! Good God ! What an 
idiot I was! 

I had come in, as requested, a hundred meters above 
the Baron’s field ; my motor was dud, my propeller gone, 
every instant I was nearing the ground. It takes some 
time in the telling, actually the whole thing passed in a 
flash. As my machine rolled, I turned and looked 
around. I saw the agile scarlet-nosed Fokker of the 
Baron turn out of its path in the sun and bank steeply 


242 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


up, less than a mashie shot away! It was he! Gone 
were all my illusions of the morning. I was done for. 
The Baron at last had surprised me ! 

Uncontrollable rage at first mastered me. The Baron 
had not played fair; our meeting for six, precisely, had 
taken place at four minutes before six. I glanced at my 
watch as I was falling. Never before had he attempted 
to take an unsportsmanlike advantage. Then I regained 
my head, resolved to make the best of it. 

Cursing myself for a stupid idiot and blockhead, I 
corkscrewed down to terra firma, flattening out at the 
last moment for a sideslip and a short roll upon the 
Baron’s own field; I was done in, right enough; the war 
was over for me! It was but twelve miles away to my 
own aerodrome, but it might as well be twelve thousand ; 
an impervious barrier — an immovable obstacle, called 
the Front — lay between me and home. I was a prisoner 
on the aerodrome that yesterday had been stripped by my 
guns. In a single second a joke had been turned into a 
tragedy ! 

Looking ahead I computed the spot where my machine 
would stop rolling. At that instant I felt a rush of wind 
at my right, and looking about saw the Baron flitting 
by me for his landing, his engine faintly ticking over. 
I smiled sardonically to myself ; this heavy-handed Ger- 
man, racially stupid as he must be, had succeeded where 
I had failed. He had patiently, hopefully waited* for me 
to deliver myself into his hands — and here I was! I 
had fallen, an easy victim to his cunning. I had de- 
livered myself, harmless and dumb, into his very hands. 
The Germans were always ahead of us in developing 
new aeroplane guns ! No doubt he had tried out his new 


THE DUEL WITH THE BARON 


243 


propeller smasher on me first, before introducing it to the 
Front generally. 

Curiously enough, a species of fatalism conquered all 
my other emotions. I did not feel that I was about to 
be mistreated by deadly enemies. The Baron and his 
pilots were, most of them, well known to me by name 
and by reputation. I had studied their individual charac- 
teristics and their histories so far as our Intelligence could 
furnish us with these personal details. I knew something 
about the education, training, family connections and age 
of each regular member of the Baron’s squadron; more 
like a rival crew at the University, they seemed; an op- 
posing crew that rowed against us, year after year; this 
time they had captured me. I was about to learn some- 
thing of their unfamiliar quality of hospitality. The 
Baron seemed more particularly a friend to me than the 
others; I could rely upon him to put me right with the 
rest, to guarantee me decent treatment. It was rotten of 
him to have begun his attack before the understood time ; 
but then I had been guilty of pure idiocy on my own part. 

I leaped out of my machine, tore off my gloves and was 
fumbling through my pockets for matches as the Baron 
touched the ground ahead of me. At last I found a 
match, struck it, broke it off short, and reached into my 
tunic for another. The Baron executed a neat circle 
on the ground, buzzed up his machine, and came taxi-ing 
rapidly toward me. I struck another match, shielded it 
from the wind, and was about to reach it out to touch 
the carburetor, when a pistol shot sang by my neck. 
The start I gave extinguished the match. The Baron 
rolled up to ten paces from me and stopped. He called 
to me sharply in English. 


244 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ I wouldn’t do that ! ” he said. 

Something in his tone made me straighten up and look 
at him. He had pushed back his goggles until they 
rested across his forehead ; across the rim of his cockpit 
a long barreled Luggers was leveled at my head. He 
smiled, and I thought that the gleam of his teeth re- 
sembled the greedy grin of a wolf. 

The next instant he had leaped from his seat. Push- 
ing his pistol back into the holster at his hip, he advanced 
toward me with his hand ungloved and outstretched. A 
genial, less arrogant smile, spread over his face. In most 
courteous English he said: 

“ It is Fate, Major Stuart. I’m sorry! Will you 
shake hands ? ” 

As I look back upon it now, the Baron unquestionably 
was right. It was Fate, nothing less! 


CHAPTER XVI 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 

Duncan’s story continued 

SHALL be delighted to keep you here, Major 
Stuart,” affirmed the Baron pleasantly as we walked 
toward a low structure set back among the trees on the 
west side of the aerodrome ; “ all that I ask is that you 
give me your word of honor you will not attempt to es- 
cape. The freedom of the place will be yours.” He 
swept his arm about with a boyish gesture. 

I examined the young Baron closely as he walked be- 
side me. His close fitting tunic revealed an athletic figure 
of less than medium height; his movements were quick, 
graceful, suggesting great vitality and nervous energy. 
His features somewhat startled me as I discovered that 
unlike the numerous photographs I had seen of him, his 
face was full of intelligence and good nature, even senti- 
ment; he did not resemble the heavy German type, but 
rather looked the picture of an aristocrat of gentle breed- 
ing. His appearance was more Saxon than Teuton; the 
flash of authority which now and then stiffened his bear- 
ing reminded one more of Sandhurst than of Potsdam. 

At any other time, under any other circumstances, I 
should have Welcomed the opportunity of cultivating the 
friendship and good will of my famous enemy. Irri- 


246 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


tated considerably by the sense of inferiority which I 
now felt, smarting under his air of patronage, I answered 
him tartly. 

“ I shall promise you nothing,” I replied, frowning ; 
“ I understood we were to meet at ‘ six precisely/ not at 
five fifty-six.” 

He did not appear to relish my words. The gaiety left 
his face as he said with some embarrassment in his voice. 
“ Have not you English an expression, ‘ All is fair in 
love and war ’ ? ” 

We walked along in silence until we reached the group 
of pilots waiting about the entrance to field headquarters ; 
mechanics had already run his machine and mine from 
their places on the field to the north side in front of the 
hangars, where by now a large crowd had gathered about 
my useless S. E. 5, looking at it with the same interest 
and curiosity that a newly captured Fokker would have 
occasioned among my own mechanics at home. I was 
perfectly well aware that the Baron’s mechanics were re- 
joicing over the victory accomplished by their great hero; 
it was quite likely that their interest was not the less be- 
cause it was my machine they now beheld as a prize. By 
replacing the shattered propeller the prize could be flying 
again in an hour. 

As the Baron escorted me to the door of his Oper- 
ations Office the group of pilots stood at attention, their 
fingers touching the edge of their caps in a salute. I 
returned the salute, and passing through their midst fol- 
lowed the Baron into his office. Here a smiling, alert 
young officer was introduced to me as the Operations of 
the Squadron; his name was von Bruck. He wore two 
.decorations on his breast which indicated conspicuous 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 247 

service with his squadron. I had a hazy recollection of 
his name, but could not recall that he was among those 
of the Baron’s pilots who had recently been cited in enemy 
dispatches for victories in air fighting. 

The Baron begged me to be seated; spending a few 
minutes in private conversation with his Operations, he 
left me free to examine the details of the room. Flowers 
bloomed upon the window sill, neat matting covered the 
rough floor; upon the walls hung, beside the inevitable 
portrait of the Kaiser, a hundred small photographs of 
airmen in the German service. Two desks and several 
rough chairs were placed about the room, a telephone of 
typical German manufacture lying upon its rack on each 
of the desks. At the desk furthest from me, the Baron 
was swinging in his revolving chair, von Bruck standing 
over him with his back toward me; their conversation 
was low and in German, and evidently concerned me. 

There is a philosophic fatalism about life that one 
discovers only when at the end of one’s resources. If 
I could have foreseen, half an hour before, that the cup 
of hot coffee I was swallowing in my bedroom was the 
last meal I was to enjoy at the expense of the British 
Government until the end of the war, the succeeding 
thirty minutes would have been occupied with a thousand 
wild and unprofitable undertakings. As it was, I found 
myself suddenly transformed from a free agent in the 
air to a prisoner on the surface of a German aerodrome 
where there could be no possibility of further profitable 
thought or action on my part. 

The immediate result of this transformation was a 
lifting of a load from my mind. Everything behind me 
was now a matter of no importance; it was all water that 


248 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


had passed through the mill. As the first avalanche of 
anger over the Baron’s subterfuge passed, my remorse 
over my own stupidity vanished with it. The sight of 
the Baron and his second in command conferring over the 
situation brought home to me the necessity of using my 
wits against the coming cross-questioning of my captors. 
Who has not heard of the bewitching wiles of the Ger- 
man Intelligence officers? After feasting their prisoners 
on fine food and champagne, specious traps are set for 
catching valuable bits of military information from their 
involuntary and unsuspecting guests. I determined to 
be upon my guard at all times against the engaging per- 
sonality of my friend, the Baron. 

I had spent a year in a German school before the war; 
my knowledge of German was fairly good, particularly 
the flying jargon which I had discovered was similar 
among the pilots of all the fighting forces. I decided it 
would be wise to pretend an entire ignorance of the Ger- 
man tongue, to be upon my guard against betraying any 
knowledge of it. 

The Baron joined me again, von Bruck standing at 
attention while his superior officer was on his feet. I 
rose from my chair and awaited his verdict. He wore 
an embarrassed manner as he approached me. 

“ Major Stuart,” he began, with the utmost civility of 
tone. “ I assure you, I regret your misfortune, but 
C’est la guerre , as the Frenchman says.” 

I smiled as best I could and replied: 

“ I have frequently said that I hoped we might have 
an opportunity to talk the war over, you and I. My idea 
was to have the meeting in London, however, not here.” 

The Baron’s genial manner returned instantly. With 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 249 


a more cordial smile and with a return of his gallant wit 
he said : 

“ London or Caudry, Major Stuart — this occasion de- 
serves a bottle of the best we have. I shall return in two 
hours. Captain von Bruck will keep you here until then. 
Perhaps after luncheon you will give the parole I re- 
quire from you.” 

A return in two hours means that the Baron is off on 
his morning patrol, I thought to myself, as with a bow 
and salute he quitted the room. I sat down by the win- 
dow and noted the departure of the Baron and his pilots 
for their hangars. The group surrounded him as they 
walked across the aerodrome, each pilot hanging upon the 
words of their leader, which words I fancied were con- 
cerning me and my fate. In the middle of the field 
the Baron halted. He saluted his officers and turned 
toward the gate leading to the town, his pilots continuing 
their way to their machines. Soon their motors sounded 
as they warmed them up; the mechanics ran about from 
machine to machine; the pilots drew on their flying gar- 
ments, their helmets, and climbed into their scarlet Fok- 
kers. And then I saw the Baron come toward them, 
walking alone; evidently he had been despatching some 
errand which did not take him far from the field. He 
took hifc cap off, gave it to the mechanic beside his aero- 
plane who was holding his flying togs. Putting them 
quickly on, the Baron von Richtsmann sprang into his 
seat and immediately led the flight from the field. 

A moment later a file of soldiers appeared in front 
of my window; they halted, put down their rifles and 
fixed their bayonets. Then at a word from the sergeant 
in command, they broke up and posted themselves at in- 


250 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


tervals about the small building in which I was confined. 
For two hours they patrolled their beats, passing to and 
fro in front of me, while I sat and thought, planned 
and waited, waited for the return of my celebrated enemy, 
the Baron. 

It was six o’clock in the morning when my dud pro- 
peller had let me down onto the Caudry Field; it could 
not have been later than six-fifteen when the Baron and 
his flight of ten machines left for their first patrol. I was 
particularly annoyed by the thought that his pilots had 
confidently expected the Baron to achieve a victory over 
me, that he had ordered them to wait with this certainty 
of victory in mind. I had taken a long look at the gun 
mounted in his machine when first he had landed beside 
me ; it was as I had expected ; the Baron had gone to the 
trouble of dismounting his Parabellum guns, of substi- 
tuting in their place a large bore shotgun, synchronized 
to shoot between the revolving blades of his propeller. 

It was evident that either the Baron desired my cap- 
ture, rather than my death, or else desired the possession 
of my machine. His cleverness in trailing me to the 
ground when I had landed, his remarkable arrival at my 
side before I had time to set fire to my machine, both 
pointed to a predetermination to prevent my destroying 
the S. E. 5 . I thought out these conclusions soberly. 

On the other hand, the Baron had doubtless decided 
that it would only be possible for him to get one whack 
at me by surprising me and he had concluded that the 
spreading charge of heavy buckshot from his extempo- 
rized aeroplane-shotgun would be more certain of break- 
ing* my propeller, thus giving him a long-sought victory, 
than would the usual line of machine gun bullets which 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 251 


he had so often found futile in his skirmishes with me. 
It was quite natural, even under this hypothesis, that the 
Baron would be quick witted enough to prevent me from 
setting fire to my machine, if he could possibly land be- 
side me in time to cover me with his weapons. 

So I pondered over this disastrous engagement, occa- 
sionally pausing to catch the words of Captain von Bruck 
as he talked through the telephone, or to listen to the con- 
versation between him and the numerous callers who 
continuously came and went. And thus the hours passed. 
I wondered, bitterly, what General Turnbull would say of 
my exploit. 

It was eight o’clock when I heard the first motor re- 
turning to the enemy field; it was the Baron himself. 
One by one, two by two, the other pilots of his flight 
came rolling in. In the meantime the second patrol flight, 
likewise of ten machines, left the field, presumably off for 
their two hours’ flight along the lines. I wondered 
whether they were bound for Ypres where one of my 
formations under Captain Hemmingway should be pa- 
trolling at this hour. 

Several of the pilots who had accompanied the Baron 
on his last flight, crossed the field and entered von Bruck’s 
office. I was duly presented to them by Captain von 
Bruck. We chatted in guttural English amicably enough 
over our cigarettes for an hour. But still the Baron 
himself did not appear. Many of these pilots were well 
known to me by name and reputation, and I was pleas- 
antly surprised to find that none of them evidenced any 
animosity toward me for the part I had had in decimating 
their ranks; more particularly was I surprised to find 
that they referred to last night’s strafing party, in which 


252 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Adair and I had caused some casualties, as a matter of 
“very good airmanship.” Truly, I had fallen into a 
nest of chivalrous enemies ! 

It was close upon twelve o’clock when the Baron en- 
tered the room. His pilots present sprang to their feet 
and stood rigidly at attention. He did not look at me 
nor notice my presence in any way for some minutes, 
during which time he sat at his desk and ran through 
the orders and memoranda which the Operations Officer 
had left there for him. One by one, the pilots softly 
quitted the room. 

Finally, finishing the pile before him, he seized a pen 
and signed a number of orders, wrote a few memoranda 
of his own, and then he turned to me. 

“ I saw some of your blue-nose devils above Lille this 
morning, Major Stuart,” he said banteringly, “ but there 
were no casualties.” 

“ You ought to congratulate yourself,” I replied. 

“ Your squadron did not seem to be out in force this 
morning ! ” 

Half of my squadron was away on an important mis- 
sion over the North Sea this morning, but I did not think 
it necessary to acquaint the Baron with this fact although 
this information would come to him soon through Ger- 
man channels, no doubt. 

“If you will be so good as to accompany me,” the 
Baron went on, after regarding me rather searchingly a 
moment, “ we will walk over to the mess for lunch. 
Come along, Reinhardt ! ” he called to von Bruck ; “ are 
you ready for coffee ? ” 

The Baron exchanged a few words in German with 
von Bruck as we walked along the field, turning off at 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 253 


the northwest corner to enter the one street which led 
toward the town. Mechanics and soldiers gathered to 
watch us pass, staring at me as though I were a sensation. 
Behind us walked a number of pilots, a group constantly 
augmented as we passed hangar after hangar and the 
loitering lieutenants caught the significance of the coming 
celebration. 

Von Bruck was a slender, fastidious young man of 
twenty-two or thereabouts, well mannered and pleasant. 
He had put himself to no end of trouble for my enter- 
tainment during the long morning, and I now felt that 
I knew him better than any of his fellows. Toward 
Baron von Richtsmann, I was beginning to feel a peculiar 
antipathy, not because of his questionable victory over 
me this morning, but rather because I felt a newly born 
repugnance to something underhanded and sinister in his 
character that I could not fathom. So it was that I 
found myself cheerily chatting with Captain von Bruck, 
who spoke fairly good English, as we strode along, while 
the Baron maintained an aloofness that left him all but 
silent. 

We continued down the middle of the well-paved street 
for a quarter of a mile from the field, at last turning in 
at a high narrow building which had the appearance of 
a small town shop, or store, one large room occupying 
almost the entire first floor, while the two floors above 
were evidently used as sleeping quarters by the pilots 
of the Baron’s squadron. An awning shaded the large 
windows which looked onto the street; inside the door 
a wide flight of stairs led upwards. 

We turned to the right and entered the main room; 
a smell of cabbage and frying grease met my nostrils 


254 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and told me that this was indeed the Baron’s mess. 
Rough benches were drawn up on each side of the four 
long tables in the room ; an amateur painter had covered 
the walls with lurid scenes of frightened pilots taking 
their first trials in the air. On a bulletin board near the 
door we entered, orders of the day, weather reports, 
maps and several lists of names which I judged to be 
flight orders, were tacked. While everything was or- 
derly, precise, spick and span, I was not highly impressed 
with the dignity of the famous Baron’s mess. 

As the pilots were introduced to me by the Baron I 
caught their names with increasing interest, for the Baron 
kindly ticketed each one of his braves with some com- 
ment that referred to late encounters between our two 
rival squadrons. Most of their names were well known 
to me ; their victories in combats had been heralded quite 
regularly through the world. They constituted, in fact, 
the best known and most accomplished aggregation of 
fighting aces employed by the Germans. They studied 
me with equal interest; with few exceptions they ex- 
hibited no rancor and no enmity. None of them in ap- 
pearance, quite measured up to their leader; few of them 
spoke English ; they grasped my hand quite as though I 
were an invited, distinguished guest, muttered a word or 
two in German, and moved on to take their places at 
table. 

Champagne was served during the meal but the Baron 
proposed no toast in celebration of the event. He was 
politely considerate of my wants, talking with me in 
English about the war, avoiding any unpleasant ques- 
tions that might be embarrassing to me. I noticed that 
the officers at other tables did little conversing with one 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 255 


another and wondered if this were because of the honor 
of my presence or because of the general discipline es- 
tablished by their commanding officer. 

We finished our coffee ; von Bruck hurriedly departed 
for his office; the last of the pilots lighted his cigarette, 
saluted the Baron, left the room. “ Now for the tor- 
ture of my third degree ? ” I said to myself as I felt the 
Baron stiffen in manner and noticed his voice grow sud- 
denly sterner. We were alone in the room with the 
exception of the orderlies who were removing the 
dishes. 

The Baron rose and inquired briskly : 

“ Will you permit me to show you my room — , and 
your own for the time being ! What a pity you did not 
know yesterday that we lived in this building!” He 
laughed with rather a nervous gaiety. 

I followed him up the stairs, noting, as I began the 
ascent, that the file of soldiers with fixed bayonets had 
been transferred from my late quarters at Operations 
to my present establishment. Two young striplings stood 
at the bottom of the stairs with their muskets at present 
arms as the Baron passed between them without seeming 
to notice them. We mounted two flights of stairs and 
entered his room. 

Two rear windows looked out upon a green little gar- 
den, filled with blooming flowers of various kinds. I 
stood at the window and looked west at our lines. 
Against the blue sky, a few miles away, I saw the familiar 
white smoke of our bursting shells. Almost within gun- 
shot of my own people — yet so powerless to reach them. 
It was a full forty feet to the ground below. I ran my 
eye along the wall that enclosed the garden; that wall 


256 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


would be easy to scale. Beyond the town of Caudry, ran 
the straight wide road to Cambrai over which I had so 
often flown on my way to my field at night. Just now it 
was covered with moving guns and lorries, half hidden 
from my view by the overhanging draperies of camou- 
flage that lined both sides of the way. 

Curious as to my coming sentence, but determined to 
exhibit no interest or concern before the Baron, I awaited 
his opening attack. My astonishment got the best of 
me when I saw him opening an American roll-top desk, 
and arranging pens, ink and paper before him. Did he 
expect me to sign an agreement not to attempt to es- 
cape ? 

“If you wish to write a message to your squadron, 
Major Stuart, you will find everything here/’ said the 
Baron cordially. “ I shall be happy to carry the mes- 
sage over and drop it on your field.” 

There was no indication of any hidden purpose or in- 
tention in his voice, yet nevertheless I declined his offer 
with some sharpness. It was then that I thought I de- 
tected disappointment in his manner. 

“ So you believe that Germany is at last on the defen- 
sive, do you? ” he inquired, throwing himself into a deep 
chair and sticking his brightly polished boots out in front 
of him negligently; “sit down, Major, and let’s talk 
things over.” 

I complied with his request and sat opposite him in 
another deep armchair. 

“ Do you know that Germany does not use nearly as 
many aircraft on her entire Front as either you or the 
French use on each of your parts of the Front? Do you 
know that with this fraction of your air strength we 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 257 


are getting two victories in the air to your one? That 
is efficiency, I call it! That is one reason Germany will 
win the war. 

“ Look at Russia ! Do you know she is about to 
break? No, I don’t suppose you do. Your government 
would not let that matter get out. But let me tell you 
plainly Russia is done! She has quit! Half the Ger- 
man resources are now freed for this Front. Do you 
think that is not true ? I assure you it is true ! 

“ German diplomacy, Major Stuart, will win this war. 
German diplomacy has conquered Russia. War is not 
a pastime with us ; it is a science. We have a loyalty to 
our Fatherland that an Englishman never had for his 
country. Wherever they are, whatever nationality they 
have adopted as second choice, a German is always a 
German; his heart never changes.” 

I thought momentarily of a certain German physician 
in London and conceded that the Baron was correct in 
his assumption. 

“ You are about to lose India. Take my word for it, 
you are: India, Turkey, Persia — I know something 
about those Eastern countries and I know something 
about Russia too. Russia will turn her vast military 
force against England before the year is out. I will 
show you some of our data before you leave. Data about 
India; and Russia. 

“ By the way,” and here his manner strangely altered ; 
he had been speaking with enthusiasm and conviction 
on the subject of the war, but now he looked away from 
me and seemed less straightforward ; “ you are to stay 
here a day or two. I shall be away — ” 

He broke off and getting to his feet he sought a ciga- 


258 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

rette from a box on the table, offered me one and lighted 
a match for us both. 

“You still live in Berkeley Square, Major ?” he in- 
quired as he blew out the match. “ You see,” he added 
with an attempt at raillery which was forced, “ I know 
as much about your affairs and about you as you seem to 
know about me and my pilots here.” 

“How did you discover I lived in Berkeley Square? 
And where did you get your extraordinary command 
of English ? Have you ever been in London ? ” I de- 
manded. 

The Baron jumped to his feet and went to his desk. 
He pulled out a drawer, rummaged among some papers, 
withdrew a file of typewritten sheets, glanced at the top 
sheet for a moment, and then handed the file to me with 
a frank smile on his face. 

“ No' harm in showing you your own record now, I 
suppose,” he said, ignoring my questions about his knowl- 
edge of English quite pointedly; he sat eyeing me quizzi- 
cally as I looked over the top sheet. There I was ! Age, 
decorations, military training, flying experience, commis- 
sions at the Front, Berkeley Square address and all! 
Then I turned a leaf and glanced down the second sheet. 
Suddenly my eye fell upon a word at the bottom of the 
page, and I felt my heart give a violent pound in my 
throat. I put the papers up between my face and the 
Baron’s to hide my emotion, and with burning eyes at- 
tempted to read quickly the German script preceding the 
malignant word that had startled me. 

A low laugh full of meaning compelled me to look at 
my companion. He was genuinely convulsed with mirth. 
Vanity, cocksureness, the bumptious smartness of a boy 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 259 


of sixteen who has accomplished a trick, were in his eyes 
and smile. 

“ Caught you the first time, my crafty one ! ” he cried. 
“ You read German as well as you do English and you 
understand it too. I know exactly what months you 
spent at Heidelberg — here, let me show you ! ” 

Springing to his feet and laughing boisterously as he 
approached me, he bent over my shoulder and began to 
trace with his finger, paragraph after paragraph of my 
biography. 

“ We all know you understand German as well as we 
do. Captain von Bruck told me you were trying to 
look innocent while he was talking over his telephone — ” 

Suddenly he stopped and stiffened. I heard a running 
step ascending the stairs, echoing down the corridor. A 
swift knocking on the door followed, and as we both 
turned toward it, Captain von Bruck, the Operations 
Officer, flung open the door and entered the room. 

Von Bruck was holding a yellow slip of paper in his 
fingers, evidently a message that had just been received 
by wireless or by telephone. He handed it to the Baron 
with a concerned look in his face, then seizing his com- 
manding officer by the arm, he threw a swift look at me 
and drew the Baron from the room. A moment later 
I heard their running footsteps pass down the hall and 
descend the stairs. 

First I ran to the window and contemplated the forty 
foot drop to the garden plot below; two sentries stood 
in the garden leaning against a tree. I turned to the 
sleeping cot against the wall; there were pieces of bed- 
ding there that would provide a means of descent. Then 
I recalled the second page of the file of my biography 


260 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


which the Baron had left in my possession ; and with that 
thought vanished all idea of using this opportunity to es- 
cape before I had mastered the meaning of the words 
I had read ; for the one conspicuous word that had chal- 
lenged my attention, like the red light of danger, was one 
small word of four innocent letters. 

It was “ the Mole ! ” 

The “ Mole ” meant but one thing to me, Doctor Shu- 
brug ! I might have time now to see what the Mole had 
to do with Baron von Richtsmann. The Baron had placed 
under my biography and flying record, several additional 
sheets of paper, evidently because they contained infor- 
mation in some way connected with me. Indeed they 
were connected with me ! He could not consciously have 
permitted this information to come before my eyes ! 

As I read this second sheet over hastily, I felt my heart 
beat violently in my temples while a cold perspiration 
broke out over my skin. The Baron certainly never in- 
tended me to see those papers ! Why they were attached 
to my personal file I could only suspect; but this sus- 
picion was being most cruelly confirmed with every 
paragraph I read. 

The second typewritten sheet contained the copy of a 
letter or long telegram, translated from a code. It was 
without address or signature. 

“ The Emperor’s plans have been successful : Russia 
is out of the war for good. The time is now at hand to 
strike for India ; you have been made acquainted with the 
details of these plans. 

“ The Emperor has long been interested in the subju- 
gation of India. India, Persia and Turkey, our agents 
report, are waiting for the coming day. India is occupied 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 261 


loosely by the British; she is badly governed by them. 
We shall gain the vast resources that now flow in a 
golden stream to England. They shall belong to the 
Fatherland. 

“ I have made you no promises that cannot be fulfilled. 
They shall be faithfully redeemed, if you are now pre- 
pared to make the sacrifices which are necessary for our 
statesmen to secure the position in the East that our 
Fatherland must occupy — shall occupy! He who now 
refuses is a traitor to the Fatherland; he who helps will- 
ingly and generously will have his rich reward; this is 
His Majesty’s message to you. 

“ The Darkmoor railways in India are strategically 
planned for military as well as commercial purposes; the 
railway to Bagdad instead of running direct to that city 
down the Euphrates Valley is projected across a barren 
country to Mossul, thence along the Tigris River to the 
head of the Persian Gulf. Our control of these railways 
avoids the use of the Suez Canal, and gives us a direct 
route to Russia ; your immediate control of these properties 
will constitute a great menace to England and her allies ; 
it will decide the fate of India and Persia ; it is the high- 
way which passes through Constantinople, Sophia, Buda- 
pest, Vienna and Berlin; India lies in a controlling posi- 
tion in the Eastern world ; God has selected you as the in- 
strument which by the aid of our statesmen will place this 
rich territory at the Emperor’s feet. 

“ Lord D. is dead ; the time has come for immediate 
action. His daughter is his sole heir, and as you know 
she is my ward. By your marriage to her you hold in 
your own hands the Darkmoor railways. I again assure 
you the Kaiser desires to make you an Eastern potentate 
not only because of your connections in India, but in re- 
ward for the noble services you have rendered to the 
Fatherland in the Flying Service of the Emperor. 

“ We await your encounter with K with deep anxiety ; 
upon receipt of your message that he is killed we will 
immediately attend to all details here. You may land at 


262 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


the Mole boldly; only Fallon who will be in the uniform 
of the Royal Air Force will meet you there; clergyman 
and bride will arrive with me in my motor. 

“ My only apprehension is your recklessness ; be very 
discreet; it is more than your life and mine that is at 
stake; reflect upon the place in history your name will 
occupy, consider the holy object of your mission, and 
summon forth those noble and intrepid qualities which 
have already placed you so high in His Majesty’s favor; 
with these sublime thoughts in your mind you cannot 
fail in caution and in wisdom. 

“ Bear in mind these admonitions ; do not leave our 
lines until K is in your hands. Come in his aeroplane 
and in his uniform if this is possible, to the Mole. Upon 
landing here have your aeroplane in readiness for instant 
flight.” 

In utter stupefaction I finished the reading of this let- 
ter. “ The Darkmoor railways ! ” “ Lord D. is dead ! ” 

“ His daughter is his sole heir ! ” “ She is my ward! ” 

These horrible phrases danced before my eyes. For 
several minutes I felt giddy and crushed under the 
weight of this awful revelation. Mingled with my flam- 
ing anger against the traitorous Doctor Shubrug, whose 
infamy was at last clearly proven, was the stunning blow 
to my heart in this discovery of the plot against Joan 
Darkmoor and against me. The reality of the motives 
back of the Doctor’s scheme was but too obvious ; this 
innocent daughter of Lord Darkmoor did hold, in truth, 
the virtual control of great railway properties in India 
which properties would be of inestimable value to the 
doctor’s Fatherland. In an agony of perplexity and 
fury I walked the floor of the Baron’s bed chamber, 
striving to piece together the logical sequences of this 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 263 


diabolical plot against Joan Darkmoor. It was incred- 
ible, inhuman, monstrous! 

I abstracted the sheet of paper and thrust it down my 
boot as the sound of a footstep on the stairs came to my 
ears. My uniform had not yet been demanded of me; 
my pistol I had surrendered a moment after my capture. 
The file of papers I quickly placed upon the desk, and be- 
fore the door was opened I yyas again seated in my chair 
with my face to the window. I did not turn as the Baron 
came in; I was debating with deadly earnestness what 
method to take to kill him with my bare hands. He 
would never leave this room again, alive ! 

My brain was on fire. Hatred of this unspeakable and 
unscrupulous 1 ' doctor, disgust with the wretched officials 
who had scoffed at my early charges against him in the 
London War Office, bewilderment at this new audacity 
of my air rival, the Baron von Richtsmann, all mingled 
with the dull horror that possessed my very soul at the 
contemplation of the plot that threatened Lady Joan. 
My own incapacity to act was the worst of these tor- 
tures. 

As these footsteps along the hall approached I felt 
my muscles trembling like a leaf in the wind; then sud- 
denly came the impulse to vent these accumulated pas- 
sions on the one individual who was still within my reach, 
regardless of the consequences to myself ; and this oppor- 
tunity for action cooled my fever like an icy bath. 

This Baron von Richtsmann who* had become the fa- 
vorite of the Kaiser — who had won an immortal place 
in history by his prowess in the air — who had been 
known as a good sportsman and a clean fighter by his an- 
tagonists — who had exhibited sagacity, skill, audacity 


264 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and bravery surpassing all his fellows — was it possible 
that this old foe of mine in battle was unconsciously my 
rival in love? Unconsciously! No, not unconsciously; 
for there could be no doubt that the “ K ” twice mentioned 
in the doctor’s letters was myself. This snare of his, 
then, had been very carefully planned ! And I had walked 
into it so trustingly! 

Could it be possible that this captor of mine proposed 
to fly out of the German camp, cross over our lines and 
territory, fly over the English Channel and actually land 
and move about in the very heart of England? Well, 
why not? In an English aeroplane, in an English uni- 
form what could be more simple! Such an expedition 
required a certain amount of effrontery, but doubtless 
the prize at stake, the interest of his Emperor in the de- 
signs of Doctor Shubrug, would recommend this little 
expedition to such a pilot as the Baron. 

The Kaiser had made this boy a baron at the age of 
twenty-one. Drunk with his success, his notoriety, his 
public renown, he was willing to accept any risk. But 
how was it possible that Doctor Shubrug could count so 
confidently upon compelling Lady Joan to take part in 
such a preposterous plot! She was his ward; this un- 
fortunately was true; but I knew enough of Lady Joan’s 
character to be certain that she could not be coerced into 
such a plan by her guardian or by any one else. This 
thought gave me some satisfaction. But behind this 
satisfaction was an uneasiness that could not be dispelled. 
Suppose through some drugs her guardian should deprive 
her of her will until some sort of legal ceremony were 
performed ! 

It was this maddening thought that gave me the 


THE DARKMOOR RAILWAYS IN INDIA 265 


strength of a madman, the cunning of a serpent, as I 
waited in my chair for the Baron’s entrance. I promised 
myself that never would this mad adventurer live to. fly 
across the Channel to participate in such a wedding cere- 
mony as Doctor Shubrug had planned for him. This 
was his method of becoming an “ Eastern Potentate ! ” 
Not while I had an ounce of strength left in my wrist 
and fingers ! 

The door to my room opened toward me. His nim- 
ble step crossed the threshold. The door closed: his 
footsteps ceased. I slowly rose to my feet, hardening 
my muscles, poising my weight for a leap. And then, 
as I drew into my lungs one last deep breath, I heard a 
strange voice behind me. 

“ The Baron has had to leave quite suddenly. You 
are to make yourself comfortable here. Can I do any- 
thing for you ? ” I raised my eyes and saw Captain von 
Bruck standing before me. 


CHAPTER XVII 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 

Duncan's story continued 

T HE hour that followed was agony. Von Bruck did 
not stay with me longer than a minute or two. He 
could not fail to notice my distress of mind, and believed 
it due, no doubt, to the despair of the prisoner deprived 
of his freedom. He asked me if I had any request to 
make of him. I had none. He left me and hastened 
away to the field, first closing and locking the Baron’s 
desk in my room, and as he left, locking the door from 
the outside. > 

It is a very true saying that pride goeth before a fall. 
Pride in my airmanship led to’ my undoing at the hands 
of the Baron; just as truly pride in his superiority over 
me led the Baron to place in my hands the official dossier 
of my career, containing, as he must have forgotten for 
the moment, his private correspondence with Doctor Shu- 
brug. This blunder of the Baron’s can hardly be called 
a decisive fall, since I was powerless to benefit by his 
imprudence; but this error of his brought me information 
which served as a tremendous stimulant to my resource- 
fulness. This indisputable proof of Doctor Shubrug’s 
perfidy, though its whole meaning was not clear to me, 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


267 


did illuminate many miserable doubts I had concerning 
him. It further placed my captor in quite a different 
light to my mind, since it told me that the Baron had 
carefully planned my destruction with the purpose of 
avoiding my interference with his daring criminal flight 
to England. 

For an hour and more I sat trying to calm my thoughts, 
listening unconsciously to the aeroplane motors on the 
nearby field. I sat on the window seat, my back to the 
open air. In the garden plot below stood two of the 
Baron’s sentries, effectively blocking my exit in that di- 
rection. 

I examined the bedding that lay on the cot in the room. 
With my pocket knife a rope could be contrived out of 
this light bedding sufficient to let me down to the ground. 
But what then? 

Two closet doors faced me from the east wall of the 
room. One of these was locked; the other opened into 
a small hallway containing nothing but a ladder leading 
to the roof and a table upon which was a well-equipped 
radio wireless set for sending and receiving. Paying 
but slight attention to the radio I closed the closet door 
and ascended the ladder. A trapdoor at the top gave 
to my lift, swinging back upon a hinge; I stood with 
my head and shoulders through the opening and looked 
about. 

A platform some twelve feet square had been laid level 
with the ridge of the roof on its northern side ; on a post 
in one corner stood a rain water gauge; across from it a 
little wheel was rotating, indicating upon a suspended 
dial the direction and velocity of the wind ; near it a ba- 
rometer and a thermometer were sheltered from the sun 


268 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


under a box covering. The weather bureau of the 
Baron’s headquarters ! 

As I stood half through the trapdoor listening to the 
louder roaring of the aeroplane engines on the adjacent 
field, the constant crump — crump — crump of German 
heavies between me and the lines, the distant humming 
of two or three aeroplanes far up in the sky, I began to 
distinguish among these sounds a familiar note which 
brought a dawning comprehension to my mind. Then 
I had it ! My own motor was being started on the enemy 
aerodrome. The mechanics had put on the new propeller 
and were trying out the engine. I could identify its note 
among a thousand. Now it labored and sputtered; I 
knew exactly what the trouble was. They were feeding 
it the rotten grade of gasoline commonly used by the 
Mercedes engines; they were trying to adjust the car- 
buretor so that it would properly function with this poor 
fuel. 

I climbed through the hole and letting the trapdoor 
drop back into its place, I lay flat upon the platform, 
keeping my eyes upon the field. Was the Baron about 
to fly my machine back to England? Was this the 
reason he had not returned with von Bruck to see me? 
Could the message von Bruck had brought to his room 
have caused the Baron to take these steps for immediate 
departure for the Mole? 

The backs of the hangars were toward me; the 
machines on the field were thus hidden from me al- 
though I was perched upon the top of quite the highest 
building in the town. Over my head the wireless aerial 
stretched across the roofs of several buildings, being 
attached to a tower scaffolding in a vacant lot beyond. 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


269 


Perhaps something might be done with this wireless in- 
strument later on ; perhaps I might send a message from 
the Baron’s apparatus that could be picked up by my 
own receiving station on the Cambrai aerodrome. 

Suddenly I heard loud sturdy explosions from my 
own motor’s exhaust; they had given her a richer mix- 
ture and better fuel. From over the top of the second 
hangar I could see the dust rise into the air, dust and 
dirt brought up from the earth by the force of the wind 
from the new propeller. A moment’s silence followed, 
then the sound indicated that my S. E. 5 was being taxied 
down the field; I heard the pilot buzz up his speed as 
the mechanics turned the machine around for a take-off 
into the wind; then came the note of charge, louder and 
louder. The machine shot up into the air above the 
roof of the end of the hangar. I saw her rise steadily 
as she got into her stride skillfully guided by a hooded 
figure in the cockpit whose small head even at this dis- 
tance identified its owner as the Baron von Richtsmann. 
At a hundred meters above the ground the Baron swung 
about to the north, passing almost directly over my head 
in his circuit of the field. 

What emotions filled my thoughts as I lay prostrate 
on the Baron’s roof, watching my successful rival flit 
over my head in my own machine, knowing the purpose 
that was in his mind, seeing the preparations for his flight 
to England carried on before my very eyes! It was 
quarter past two o’clock by the watch on my wrist; in 
less than an hour from now the Baron might be landing 
in England by the Mole ! 

I watched the aeroplane rise higher and higher; evi- 
dently the Baron was seeking a ceiling over his own 


270 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


field before he set forth into areas more suspicious of 
this British machine. In a quarter of an hour he had 
become a tiny speck in the blue sky, requiring all my 
attention to keep him within my sight. At an elevation 
of twelve or thirteen thousand feet he turned toward 
the lines. In another two minutes he and my S. E. 5 
had disappeared from view. 

Three machines of the Baron’s squadron were droning 
about in the vicinity, flying at various altitudes. I 
noticed that all three of these Fokkers followed the 
Baron as he turned to the west, and these too continued 
this course until they faded from my sight. They were 
guarding the Baron against pursuit or attack until he 
was safely across our lines. Unquestionably the Baron 
was bound for the Mole! 

Other machines were crossing the heavens, bound this 
way and that, as the minutes passed. Below my perch 
the roadway sounded with the rhythmical tread of march- 
ing men, the buildings sending forth echoes now faint, 
now clear. Deeper within the town I could see, by 
raising my head, groups of enemy soldiers standing 
smoking about the doors of their billets. A feeling of 
hopeless despair weighed down on my heart. 

A two-seater machine of the Hanover type was pass- 
ing over the town, its ugly black crosses depicted large 
and menacing on the under side of its wings. It was 
dropping lower and lower, its motor faintly ticking over ; 
evidently the pilot was intending to land. He glided 
over my head, over the roofs of the hangars, into the 
middle of the field, then opening his throttle he circled 
the aerodrome once and a half at a low elevation until 
coming into the wind from the opposite direction, he 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


271 


cut his throttle down, landing his clumsy machine quite 
cleverly onto the field. I heard the machine after it 
had landed taxi-ing noisily up to the hangars, turning 
about with a great rush of wind and dust behind its 
tail until it again faced the open field; then the spark 
was cut and the engine became silent. The stranger ‘had 
come to pay a visit, for instead of stopping at the han- 
gars he had run his machine over to the field office, 
where he was now preparing his machine for getting 
it away without the help of the mechanics. 

I watched him enviously as he leaped out of his seat, 
unbuckled his black leather coat and flung it into his 
seat. Pushing his goggles back upon his forehead he 
spoke a few words to the mechanics who had hastened 
out from the hangars to assist him. Dismissing them 
with a brief salute, he turned upon his heel and walking 
to Operations Office he disappeared from my view. 

Other machines attracted my attention in the sky to 
the west toward the Front. Needless to say I scruti- 
nized every speck in the sky to see if by chance some of 
my own pilots were not coming over to take a look at 
the Caudry Field. That some machines of my squadron 
had visited Caudry this morning I had no' doubt. My 
pilots knew of my destination and they knew I had not 
returned. Although I had neither seen nor heard any 
of my S. E. 5’s overhead since my capture early this 
morning, I nevertheless felt certain that Adair or Ballou, 
or Taffy, or Foote would fly over to investigate the 
Baron’s aerodrome before night. I went over in my 
mind the flying orders for the day; one flight of ten 
machines had gone on a special mission to Nieuport be- 
fore daylight this morning, under command of Cap- 


272 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


tain Douglas ; another patrol was operating in the vicinity 
of Lille under Hemmingway; these latter had been seen 
by the Baron this morning. 

My absence at lunch would not cause them to suspect 
that anything was wrong. I had the unfortunate repu- 
tation of getting home when I pleased, frequently 
stopping for a call at Headquarters, or at one of the 
neighboring aerodromes with which we were cooperating. 
No, I was forced to admit to myself, there was no reason 
why any of them should suspect I was in trouble. What 
good would it do them to come over here to look over 
the Baron’s field! When they discovered that I was 
not in for mess to-night they would begin to telephone 
about to the other fields for information about me. It 
would be to-morrow morning at the earliest before they 
concluded that I was actually missing. 

With great bitterness of spirit I asked myself what 
use it was to speculate about the goings and comings 
either of the Baron and his pilots or my own ! The war 
was over for me. I could look forward to Carlsruhe 
prison, that Mecca of all aviator prisoners. 

The filthy food and clothing, the harshness of the 
jailers and all the rest of the unpleasantnesses had been 
described many times to us by pilots who had escaped. 
Despite the courtesy of the Baron and von Bruck, I 
knew very well that I was the more strictly guarded 
because of my refusal to give them my parole. When 
the Baron returned, if ever he did return, I would seize 
the first opportunity to settle with him for the treachery 
he was meditating, or possibly had consummated by then. 
I would attempt no escape, I would give them no cause 
to take me away from the Baron’s quarters until I had 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


273 


one opportunity to be alone with him for five minutes. 
Not even the wireless instruments below, ready for my 
use as they were, could be employed with certainty of 
success. If I tried to warn my squadron of the Baron’s 
plans and failed, he would be upon his guard and my 
opportunity to kill him would be lost. 

Nevertheless I was unable to keep my eyes from 
searching the skies, endeavoring to pick out of their 
depths the jaunty outlines of our blue-nosed machines. 
Distant black specks now and then appeared only to be 
swallowed up again. Two straight lined Fokkers passed 
high over me, escorting forward to the lines an ob- 
servation machine for their afternoon photographs. 
Instinctively I picked out the clouds where one might 
hide until the trio had passed; I pictured the swift de- 
scent one might make upon the two defending machines, 
their attempt to evade the attack, their downfall, the 
subsequent dive from above upon the slow two-seater. 
I yearned for the feel of the control-stick in my fingers, 
the sensitive rudder-bar under my feet. 

My thoughts were brought back to earth by the pres- 
sure of the trapdoor against my body; someone was 
pushing it upward. I considered the situation a moment, 
then quickly rolling out of the way, I lifted the door up 
and fastened it against its support. The face of Captain 
von Bruck peered up at me, a mixture of alarm and 
surprise twisting his features. Determined to betray no 
confession of guilt in being discovered in this extraordi- 
nary position, I merely nodded a friendly greeting to the 
Captain, and again turned my face upward to the sky. 
He spoke to me in German, requesting me politely to 
come down. With much deliberation I descended the 


274 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


ladder, confronting him where he waited for me at its 
foot with an inquiring expression in my countenance. 

“ Captain Denike wishes to meet you, sir,” apologized 
von Bruck, regarding me with almost as much deference 
as he had shown his commanding officer, the Baron. 
“ Captain Denike was shot down by you, sir, and he 
wishes to meet you. He has just flown in from the 
Lille aerodrome.” 

“ Captain Denike ! ” I answered, betraying some 
astonishment in my voice ; “ Captain Denike of the Lille 
Observation Squadron? ” I made no further pretense of 
ignorance of the German tongue. 

“You have heard of him, Major Stuart? ” asked von 
Bruck, evidently delighted at my acquaintance with 
enemy airmen. 

“ Oh, yes, I have heard of him.” I answered more 
guardedly; I felt a sudden impulse to be wary. Captain 
Denike was in fact the name of an enemy pilot who had 
been shot down by one of my squadron some weeks 
before. Of course this Captain Denike must be a 
brother or a relative of the pilot we had buried ; learning 
of my capture he had flown over to get from me the 
details of his relative’s death. 

This reasoning passed quickly through my mind, for 
I was puzzled to know how the German pilots had 
learned of the death of their Captain Denike, which 
fact had not been . published by our Intelligence. 

“Where is Captain Denike?” I asked, stepping past 
von Bruck over the threshold into the room which I con- 
sidered my prison. 

“ In there,” he answered, as he drew back to let me 
pass. 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


275 


As he spoke the words I raised my eyes and met, face 
to face, the last person on earth I expected to see. There 
stood our Yank captain — Captain Arnold Adair! 

To an aviator at the Front, accustomed to startling 
surprises every day of his life, it becomes easy perhaps 
to control, to suppress quick emotions. Having run 
every gamut of emotion in the last few hours, I myself 
would have sworn that nothing in the world would have 
disturbed my composure or have surprised me into 1 a 
betrayal of myself. But at this crucial moment it was 
due solely to the ready wit of Arnold that I escaped 
blundering in the silliest possible manner. My back was 
toward the German officer else he could not have failed 
to note the start I gave when my eyes fell on the counte- 
nance of Arnold, half concealed as it was under the 
ponderous German goggles which covered his forehead. 
His eyes were steely cold in warning as they met mine. 
But his gesture the next moment as he advanced to greet 
me, was so elegantly formal and precise, in its imitation 
of German official etiquette, that for an instant I feared 
that I had mistaken that handsome dare-devil form, 
thickly clothed in the regulation flying uniform of the 
enemy air service. Where had he obtained it — that 
uniform! Evidently he wore it over his own, with con- 
siderable padding besides, for his figure was swollen to 
quite twice its usual size. In a flash the whole daring 
plan of Arnold’s came to me. 

“ Major Stuart ! ” Arnold began in a thick German 
tongue, clicking his heels together, bowing stiffly from 
his middle before he extended his hands to me, “ may 
I have the happiness of thanking you for your kindness 
to me, as well as to many others of our aviators whom 


276 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


you have befriended. You are well known to us. Now 
you are a prisoner in our hands! Good! You will see 
that German fliers know how to reciprocate for English 
favors.” 

Arnold bowed again. I turned about to look at our 
jailer, who was standing behind my back. He was 
looking fixedly at Arnold. My intention must have 
communicated itself to Arnold for he hurriedly inter- 
posed. 

“ I have come with an order to Baron von Richtsmann 
from the general, desiring that you come immediately to 
his headquarters at Lille, Major Stuart. Captain von 
Bruckner/’ Arnold went on, speaking rather contemptu- 
ously as he hesitated over the captain’s name with 
seeming deliberate intent, “ is reluctant to permit you to 
go until the Baron returns. If you will come with us 
to the field office I will telephone to the general. Are 
you ready to go now, sir? ” 

“ But, sir,” expostulated von Bruck, stepping into the 
room until he stood in front of the burly figure of the 
American, “ as I have told you, the Baron left orders 
that Major Stuart was not to leave this room. The 
guards will not permit Major Stuart to go to the 
field.” 

“ What guards ? ” demanded Arnold curtly. 

“ Below, at the door.” 

“ The Baron left these orders ? ” I inquired. 

“ Yes, sir,” replied Captain von Bruck, eyeing me 
with a half apologetic air; “ the Baron left these orders.” 

“ Where did he go? ” I asked. 

Von Bruck hesitated a bit. Arnold turned away from 
him impatiently and walked to the window. 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 277 

“ On patrol, I believe. ,, Von Bruck seemed embar- 
rassed. 

Arnold turned at the end of the room, standing with 
his back to the light. He swelled himself up tremend- 
ously as he faced the Operations Officer. 

“ I will telephone to the general and ask him whether 
his orders are to be obeyed or the Baron’s,” Arnold 
announced coldly. He shot a defiant look between the 
eyes of poor von Bruck that delighted me. How far 
his effrontery would carry him in this ridiculous threat 
I would have been glad to have learned. 

On the other hand I was not blind to the appalling 
risk Arnold was running in his efforts to help me; 
landing here in the enemy’s camp clothed in the uniform 
of a German captain, he would most certainly be shot 
as a spy if he were discovered. My fate was nothing 
as compared to his, if von Bruck’s suspicions were once 
aroused concerning him and his mission. What insane 
foolhardiness had prompted him to attempt this audacious 
rescue! It was not until later that I learned the full 
extent of the risk he took upon himself in my behalf. 
I loved him for his. fidelity, admired him for his courage, 
but I shrank from the possibility of keeping him here to 
be caught and sacrificed under my very eyes. 

Arnold’s clever calculations impressed me, little as I 
understood the situation. Evidently he had watched 
the Baron’s aerodrome until he discovered that the Baron 
and most of his pilots were away on patrol, and then 
he had landed with this silly tale about the German 
general desiring me to come to his headquarters ! Once 
he could get me to the field he could dispose of the 
Operations Officer with a shot from his pistol, and we 


278 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

could, make a dash for it. What a gallant old boy he 
was ! 

But the slender Operations Officer of the Baron’s aero- 
drome was no fool. I had no means of knowing what 
Arnold had told him as they walked over to my prison 
from the field together; doubtless Arnold had simply 
expressed the desire to see me and thank me for a pre- 
tended favor I had done Captain Denike. Without 
hesitation the cool American had accompanied Captain 
von Bruck into the very jaws of the lion. But his 
effrontery might carry him too far. I noticed von 
Bruck’s expression of surprise as Arnold threatened to 
telephone to the general, and I determined to interfere 
before Arnold got himself into difficulties. The general 
possibly might be lacking in a sense of humor; von 
Bruck, if his suspicions were awakened, might insist that 
Captain Denike carry out his threat to communicate with 
this Lille general. 

“ Captain Denike,” I said, “ I am at your service, of 
course. But I would consider it more than kindness on 
your part if you would permit me to stay until the Baron 
von Richtsmann gets back. The Baron and I are really 
quite old friends, as Captain von Bruck will tell you,” 
I continued, smiling at the Operations Officer to indicate 
that I was taking his part against the visitor. “ If your 
orders will let you delay here for an hour, I would like 
to thank the Baron for his courtesies before I am moved 
on.” 

Arnold bowed with an odd mixture of respect for me 
as his commanding officer and politeness due a prisoner 
who was entitled to honor. Cool as a cucumber without 
a trace of nervousness he replied easily : 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


279 


“ It is my pleasure to obey you, Major Stuart. I ask 
only that you will give me your word as an officer and 
a gentleman that you will not attempt to escape from 
my custody. If you refuse I shall be compelled to 
take you away in handcuffs. You will give me your 
word ? ” 

“ I will, with many thanks for your courtesy.” I 
bowed my acknowledgment. “ I give you my word of 
honor I will not attempt to' escape from you until you 
release me from my promise.” 

“Good!” shouted Captain von Bruck. “Major 
Stuart is too well known to this squadron to permit us 
to put any indignity upon him. But he would not give 
us this promise and we were forced to keep him under 
guard. When the Baron returns we shall be happy to 
remove these guards,” 

He spoke to Captain Denike rather than to me. 

“ But he will not be here when the Baron returns,” 
replied Captain Denike, with a swift glance at me, “ un- 
less Major Stuart expressly wishes to wait here.” 

“ Am I permitted to 1 walk over to the field with you 
two officers,” I inquired coldly, “ and wait to see the 
Baron there ? ” 

Young von Bruck hesitated. I instantly decided that 
Arnold would not succeed in bulldosing him with threats 
about a distant general at Lille. We had better risk 
overpowering him here without raising any alarm. But 
even if that were accomplished, how could I hope to pass 
from this house to the aerodrome without challenge? 

Von Bruck considered my proposal for a moment, then 
from the shadow on his face I saw that he had decided 
against it. 


280 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

“ As I told you, Major Stuart, I cannot countermand 
the Baron’s orders. This you understand surely. But 
I shall be happy to see him the moment he lands-; I will 
tell him that you would like to move about on parole. 
Now, if you will excuse me, I will leave you with Cap- 
tain Denike for a few minutes.” 

The bogus Captain Denike saluted von Bruck, making 
no attempt to keep him with us. We listened intently 
to learn whether or not von Bruck loitered near our 
door ; he did not even stop to* lock the door, but hastened 
away, clattering down the wooden stairs at a steady gait. 

The next instant Arnold began stripping the German 
uniform from his back. 

“ Quick, Duncan ! Get into these clothes. I have that 
Hanover primed up and ready to go, out on the field. 
This uniform will get you through.” 

“ It won’t do, Arnold,” I answered, seizing him by 
the arms to stop him. “ You must get away from here 
instantly! Fly straight to England — the Mole! Doc- 
tor Shubrug’s place ! — ” 

“ Oh, bother Doctor Shubrug ! ” Arnold retorted. 
“ Let’s not talk about your bete noire , now, Duncan. 
We’ve got to fly over Germany first.” 

Arnold could not repress a smile as I spoke the Ger- 
man doctor’s name. Furious as I was, I had to swallow 
my wrath and get on with my instructions, for time was 
pressing. 

“ The Baron left this field an hour ago for Doctor 
Shubrug’s landing field on the Mole ! ” I whispered, 
grasping Arnold’s shoulders firmly — grasping them until 
he could not move. " The Baron has gone there to 
marry Joan Darkmoor! Doctor Shubrug has it all ar- 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 281 

ranged. I found a letter from him to the Baron in this 
room.” 

Arnold stared at me in stupefaction. He plainly 
thought me demented. 

I slipped from my right boot the slip of paper I had 
abstracted from the Baron’s files and unfolded it before 
his eyes. He read it through, sobering instantly as he 
read. “ What’s this about ? ” he asked. 

“ Railroads ! ” I groaned. “ Joan is Doctor Shubrug’s 
ward. He wants to put the India railroads in German 
hands — and they have selected the Baron. It seems 
incredible, preposterous — but the Baron has gone. He 
took my machine. How they will do it I have no idea; 
but she is all alone and that scoundrel is her guardian.” 

Arnold leaned over to look into my eyes as if to 
determine whether or not I was indeed out of my senses. 
He folded up the paper, led me over to the window seat, 
and we seated ourselves side by side. 

“ Just say that over again! Did you say that Joan 
Darkmoor is going to marry the Baron von Richts- 
mann ! ” 

“ Not if you can reach the Mole in time! Don’t you 
see, Arnold, what a simple plot it is? Joan inherits 
Earl Darkmoor’s interest in these railroads Germany 
wants! She is English, but if Doctor Shubrug can 
marry her to a German subject, her husband will do 
much as he pleases with them. They have picked out 
the Baron because he can fly there in an English machine 
and English uniform and won’t be suspected. Fallon’s 
in the plot too. He’s as vile a traitor as the doctor is. 
The whole plan is indicated in this letter from the doctor 
to the Baron. It’s a big thing — one the Emperor is 


282 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


interested in. The Baron is to be an Eastern Potentate.” 

Arnold’s face showed a new comprehension. He evi- 
dently had decided that I had not lost my senses. 

“You say the Baron has gone to England?” 

“ Shortly after lunch, this Operations Officer, von 
Bruck, came hurrying in here where the Baron and I 
were talking. Von Bruck had a message in his hand. 
He handed it to the Baron and they both left in a great 
rush. A few minutes later I heard the motor of my 
machine. I had my propeller broken this morning — that 
is how the Baron got me. He had it all planned out that 
way. Buck-shot ! He wanted my machine to take him 
to England and he wanted me safe out of the way so that 
I could not turn up at the Mole to interfere. I am the 
only man in England that distrusts this doctor. My en- 
gagement to Joan has nothing to do with this situation, 
mere coincidence.” 

Arnold nodded. 

“ About an hour ago I saw the Baron fly up over the 
field here to twelve thousand feet. Then he turned to- 
ward the lines and disappeared. Two or three of his 
Fokkers accompanied him at lower altitudes, but I sup- 
pose they turned back when they reached the lines.” 

“ Von Bruck said the Baron was out on patrol ! ” 

“ In my machine? ” I retorted. “ I don’t believe him. 
This is a big undertaking, Arnold. The Baron may or 
may not have taken von Bruck into his confidence.” 

“Did the Baron fly over in his German uniform?” 

“ No. He probably has as many English uniforms 
here as we have German uniforms at our mess.” 

“ Daring little excursion, isn’t it,” said Arnold lightly. 
But his countenance was shining with a fierce light that 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 283 

betokened a new resolve in his mind. He believed my 
incredible story — that was all that mattered now. 

“ It’s the most damnable plot ever dreamed of,” I re- 
plied. “ The worst of it is, they will probably succeed.” 

“ Peter Willerton flew over to our field from London 
this morning,” Arnold began ; “ he caught a wireless — 
or rather Tommy Rounds caught it — saying you were 
captured — ! ” 

“ What’s that ! ” I cried aloud. Arnold put his fingers 
to his lips, jerking his thumb significantly toward the 
sentries below us. 

“ Peter said the message stated that K was captured. 
On the strength of that Peter flew over to find out if 
K meant you.” 

“ K meant me all right. Arnold, there is no' more time 
for explanations; you can get away without any ques- 
tions; we have no time even to plan a way for me to 
go with you. Besides I want to stay here to have one 
minute alone with the Baron, if he does come back. 

“ You must go instantly! Explanations will wait 
until after the war. Take Babe and Taffy and Foote 
with you — anybody! The Baron is there in my ma- 
chine. He must not leave there alive.” 

Arnold leaned over and began quickly unlacing his 
boots. He paid no heed to my expostulations until he 
had them off ; then he sprang to his feet and walked away 
from the window where he had been sitting in full view 
of the sentries below us. 

“ I shall stay where I am until you come with me,” 
replied Arnold calmly, as he unbuttoned his tunic and 
prepared to take it off. 

“ Captain Adair ! ” I ordered sternly, rising to my feet 


284 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


and lowering my voice as I approached him. Arnold 
made a comic attempt to stand at attention and salute. 
He was in his stocking feet; his German tunic was half 
removed, hanging by the right arm which flopped it high 
into the air as he saluted his commanding officer. We 
faced each other grimly. 

As his outer coat dangled away from his body, I saw 
that he was fully clothed beneath it in another captain’s 
uniform of the German Air Service; the stuffing that had 
increased Arnold’s slender girth so conspicuously was 
now exposed. He had worn two German uniforms over 
his own British uniform. A new inspiration came to 
me as I divined his intentions. 

As our eyes met each saw same thoughts flash across 
the other’s face. Serious as our situation was I could 
not help laughing. 

“ What are you doing with two uniforms ? ” 

“ One is for you.” 

“ What can I do with it ? ” 

“ Walk through the whole bally town in it.” 

“ They all know me.” 

“ We will risk it.” 

“ Look here, Arnold, we will risk nothing of the kind ; 
this is too serious; this is more than a matter of my 
rescue ; we’ve got to get over to England, one of us, and 
you’re the only one that can leave without risk; they 
know me here, especially von Bruck.” 

“ If you only knew how much better he knows me,” 
retorted Arnold. Then before I could ask the meaning 
of this remark, he went on, “ I will not go without you, 
Duncan. That’s flat! I refuse to obey you. Now let 
me talk a minute. 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


285 


“ Here, be putting these on while I tell you what the 
plan is,” he continued, throwing over to me his breeches 
and tunic which had formed his outer covering. He 
began lacing up his boots with great haste. “ If any- 
body comes now we’ll throttle him.” 

“ That’s what I wanted to do with* von Bruck,” I 
muttered. 

“ I’d be sorry to do that,” Arnold replied. “ I’ll tell 
you why later. But now, get this straight. The whole 
squadron will be here at three o’clock sharp. We 
planned it all after Peter flew in. I came over on the 
bare chance of finding you whole. So far everything has 
gone famously; I am with you; we are alone; you have 
a German uniform. We have an anxious ten minutes 
to wait before the show begins.” 

“ What show ? ” I demanded, pulling on Captain Den- 
ike’s breeches over my own. 

“ Finest little private exhibition ever staged, outside 
of the great war,” replied Arnold. “ Wait until you 
see our split-air merchants over Caudry, and you will 
admit it is some show.” 

“ Right-O,” I returned, “ but suppose we are caught 
and shot! What good will it do Joan Darkmoor if all 
Caudry is destroyed and the Baron isn’t? Have you 
thought about Joan at all, or only about me? I tell you, 
Arnold, you’ve got to get out of here without running 
the risk of. taking me with>you. No one else in all the 
world but you and I knows what is going on at the 
Mole. That is more important than I am.” 

Arnold thrust his hand deep within two or three layers 
of clothing, fumbled about there for a few moments 
and finally withdrew it, producing a cheque-book. 


286 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Opening it he scanned the back sheet, then handed it over 
to me. 

“ Jolly good thought that, Duncan, putting down 
Tommy’s wave length and call at Blackfriars that after- 
noon we were having tea at the Trocadero. I’ll go over 
and have the Caudry operator send a wireless for me in 
this wave length, saying the Baron is at the Mole. How 
would that be? Tommy will get it. He is sticking by 
his machine this afternoon.” 

Such unparalleled audacity as this was too much for 
me. Time and again since his joining my squadron Ar- 
nold had proved his courage and intelligence ; in air strata- 
gems and air fighting he had shown real sagacity. I 
looked upon him as one of the best men in my squadron. 
But never before had I suspected such coolness and good 
judgment, in the midst of so deadly a peril as now 
surrounded us both. 

On the present occasion I felt that his judgment was 
better than my own. My brain was too greatly flustered 
by the discoveries and tortures of the day to be function- 
ing properly ; the humiliation of my defeat at the Baron’s 
hands still smarted; the horror of the fate threatening 
Joan unnerved me. I told Arnold frankly as I finished 
my change of costume that I would put myself unre- 
servedly in his hands. 

“ Right, old bean,” was his only comment as he studied 
his wrist watch with an anxious face. “ Babe promised 
to drop his first bomb on us at exactly three o’clock. 
Every one of our blue-noses was loading up to the gun- 
nels with small bombs when I left. It lacks just eight 
minutes now by my watch; I don’t see how I can get 
this wireless message through to Tommy before three.” 


THE GERMAN CAPTAIN 


287 


“ There's a wireless right there in this closet,” said I, 
pointing to the door. “ I didn’t examine it, but I saw 
it had both receiving and sending instruments connected 
up. It is the Baron’s own private set, I imagine.” 

“ Splendid ! ” laughed Arnold. “ Why bother the 
Fritzies with our message when I can send it myself! 
We will wait until the music begins and there will be 
nobody about then who cares what we send.” 

“ What music ? ” I demanded. 

“ The music that will fox-trot us out that door and 
across the field to the Hanover,” stated Arnold seriously. 
“ We’ve got to run the risk of our own strafing. They 
will keep it up until they see me take the Hanover off 
the field. Babe knows where I have parked the two- 
seater; they will carefully omit showering bombs there.” 

“ What’s that ? ” he ended. 

A burst of firing that rattled our windows interrupted 
him. He clutched my wrist in a joyous grip. 

“ They’re here ! ” he cried. “ That’s Archy letting go 
at them! Hear it? They’re early but they will stay 
until you go with them. Get ready for a dash now, old 
bean! The Fritzies will think we are dashing out to 
help fight them off.” 

Rushing to the windows which looked to the lines, we 
wedged ourselves in, side by side, peering into the west- 
ern heavens. There at ten thousand feet altitude we 
saw our gallant little blue-noses flying jauntily toward 
us in one broad formation. They came slanting down 
the trail toward the Caudry aerodrome at tremendous 
speed, every motor full out. The All-for-One Squadron 
was here en masse , coming to the rescue of its unfor- 
tunate leader. 


CHAPTER XVIII 


“don’t shoot, bunny!” 


The end of Duncan’s story 


S the blue-noses approached us the din of the Ger- 



man guns redoubled. Black bursts filled the air 
above and beyond the humming S. E. 5’s. The gunners 
must shorten their range very rapidly indeed to catch 
up with the swiftly advancing machines. Less than one 
hundred yards from our window three elevated guns 
were belching up their shells in rapid salvos of five, with 
seeming disregard of distance or direction; it was these 
rapid concussions which had been rattling the windows 
of the house, jarring its foundations. The gunners 
worked like beavers, but their only object seemed to be 
to impress the inhabitants of Caudry with their industry. 

From a dozen other positions around the circumfer- 
ence of Caudry concealed gunners were plastering the 
sky with bursting archies. Some of these batteries were 
better than others. From our seat in the grandstand 
we watched the great flotilla coming toward us with 
wings outspread like the picture of a gigantic eagle. It 
seemed impossible that our S. E. 5’s could pass through 
these bursts of shrapnel without encountering showers 
of flying fragments. 


289 


“ DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY! ” 

Yet steadily onward they came, losing altitude rapidly 
as they approached us. Now we could count them 
clearly. Twenty-two in all, our pugnacious blue-noses 
were diving upon Caudry in one solid formation, silent, 
irresistible, unswerving. Like a terrible avenging angel 
they came sweeping down upon us, passing over our 
heads as we leaned far out of the window. They passed 
us at less than a thousand feet above our roof-top. 

“Now is the time for us to cut and run!” shouted 
Arnold, turning a glowing face upon mine. “ Their 
first hail of bombs will send every Fritz to the cellar on 
the jump! We’ll have to dodge our own bombs on the 
way to the field and trust to luck ! ” 

“ Where is your Hanover — exactly ? ” 

“ It’s at least two hundred yards out in front of the 
hangars,” he returned. “ Babe knows where it is ; we 
arranged all that before we left our drome. If only the 
Fritzies have left it alone! She was standing nose to 
the wind on the edge of the field, all primed up to go.” 

“Well, Cheerie-O, old bean, and let’s breeze along! 
I am ready any time you are.” 

“ Right-O, Duncan, but give me just a minute with 
the Baron’s radio plant first. Where is it ? ” 

“ Inside that door,” I replied, reaching it in three 
strides and throwing open the door which led to the roof ; 
a sheet lay over the instruments ; grasping one corner of 
the sheet I tore it off and flung it aside. 

“ Hope there are no funny twists to this sending ap- 
paratus,” Arnold said fervently as he seated himself 
upon the stool, and with a practiced hand felt of the 
screws and sounders. We were both familiar with all 
kinds of wireless systems and almost at a glance we 


290 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


satisfied ourselves that the Baron’s outfit was a powerful 
one and was in splendid working order. 

“ Pete Willerton and I sent a message to Tommy just 
before I left our field,” observed Arnold. “ He will 
be on the lookout for another.” 

Arnold screwed out the instrument to the wave-length 
he wanted, giving one preliminary buzz to test it. 

“ Tommy caught the message about K being captured 
from this very instrument, wouldn’t you say so?” said 
Arnold, throwing one leg over the other and turning 
about to face me as he poised his fingers over the sounder. 
“ Well, let’s go ! Blackfriars it is.” 

Six, seven, eight times he pounded out the Blackfriars’ 
call, sending the powerful vibrations through the air 
snapping with energy, BFZi, BFZi, BFZi — ! Then 
with smiling deliberation he paused a moment before he 
buzzed out the words in plain Morse English : 

BARON IS AT THE MOLE. GET HIM! 

ARNOLD ADAIR. 

Twice Arnold repeated this message word for word; 
then with a twist of his wrist he broke the sounding key, 
thrust it into his pocket for a souvenir, and without 
waiting for a reply of recognition or answer, he sprang 
to his feet, pushing me out of the door before him. 

“ The fat’s in the fire now, Duncan ! Everybody 
along the Front has caught that message! Let’s go! 
Lord, what a racket our fellows are making ! ” 

We dashed through the Baron’s room for the last 
time and made for the door. A flying helmet of the 
Baron’s hung upon a corner of his mirror; catching it 
up as I passed I put it on my head. Outside the house 


DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY! 


291 


bombs were exploding ; guns, large and small, were sound- 
ing vigorously. The walls of our building were shaking 
from the concussions. Altogether it sounded like a zero 
hour at the Front line trenches. 

As the Yank led the way along the corridor and down 
the stairs to the street, a terrific uproar came to our ears 
from the outside world. The Independent Fighting 
Squadron was strewing a shower of bombs from a low 
altitude, along our street, in front of the house, upon 
the hangars and sheds that surrounded the field, upon 
the adjacent streets where troops and guns were in ac- 
tion. Explosion after explosion sounded, some more dis- 
tant, some near at hand. Machine guns tic-tic-tacked 
furiously; heavy guns on the ground bellowed back at 
them; over all, like the bass notes of a gigantic organ, 
the alluring hum of our twenty-two motors filled the 
air with its thrilling call. 

At the bottom of the stairs we came upon two pallid 
youths in green uniforms who with muscles paralyzed 
with fright were clinging to the walls for support; their 
two rifles with bayonets fixed were leaning against the 
door jamb. They eyed us with mingled hope and shame 
as we approached, finally summoning resolution enough 
to pick up their guns and stand at attention as we passed 
them. 

“ You will be killed here, you idiots!” Arnold called 
to them sharply ; “ get down to the shelter until this 
raid is over ! ” 

With a grateful salute the two boys seized their mus- 
kets and bolted for the stairs to the cellar ; it needed less 
authority than Arnold’s to convince them of the wisdom 
of such a command. 


292 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


Arnold flung open the front door; in a moment I was 
by his side, peering up and down the narrow road that 
led to freedom. Running figures could be seen in both 
directions; here and there spouts of dust and debris 
appeared over the roofs of buildings, denoting the last 
explosion of an aeroplane bomb. Overhead, our blue- 
noses were circling the field and town at very low alti- 
tude, now and then darting down to flash through the 
length of a street, machine guns spouting forth fire as 
they flew. Confusion and noise reigned to such a degree 
that we could not make ourselves heard without shouting. 
Never had the little town of Caudry received such a vis- 
itation as this ! Never before had one human being 
occasioned such an uproar! 

Leaping across the little platform to the open street, 
Arnold and I turned to the right and ran at top speed 
toward the aerodrome. Ahead of us other figures were 
leading the way but none had eyes for us. The field 
was a good quarter of a mile away. It would take us 
several minutes to reach it. We leaped across one bomb- 
hole and skirted another. Against the fence to our left 
a soldier lay moaning with pain, none near by to give him 
attention. At the right we passed the openings of sev- 
eral streets that led deeper within the town; down each 
of these streets we observed machine guns firing upward 
at our darting and swooping aeroplanes. From the roofs, 
from adjoining clumps of trees, more guns were blazing 
away in a pandemonium of uproar. Every Fritz in 
Caudry this day was intent on bringing down one of the 
insolent blue-noses that girded at so temptingly low an 
elevation above him. 

Our uniforms alone served as ample passports through- 


DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY! 


293 


out the limits of Caudry, so long as these aeroplanes 
continued to scourge the town from above. 

Where were the Baron’s pilots ? How had my fellows 
crossed the lines in so large a formation without at- 
tracting the attention of the lynx-eyed Fokkers? 

Before we finished our quarter mile sprint we dis- 
covered that the scarlet-hued enemy machines had not 
entirely been caught napping. Several furious fights 
were in progress in various parts of the sky. And once, 
as we flattened our bodies against the brick walls of a 
building to our right, one of our S. E. 5’s swung past us 
scattering tracer bullets along the cobblestones as he 
flew. We both involuntarily shouted out a warning 
to Peter Willerton, for it was he, to look behind him; 
for a black-bodied, red-nosed machine of the Baron’s at 
that moment zoomed over a building: the pilot with a 
quick kick of the rudder set himself on Peter’s tail, not 
two hundred yards behind him ; with fire belching out of 
their exhausts, both machines turned the corner of the 
field and disappeared from our view. Simultaneously 
we set forward again on the run for the open gate ahead 
of us. Gaining the field, we halted, panting for breath, 
looking cautiously over the scene. 

This gate of the Caudry field opened out on to the 
town from the nearest corner. To our left the hangars 
lined the north end of the field. One of these hangars 
was now in flames caught from an incendiary bomb 
dropped by one of our machines. Straight ahead of us 
the Baron’s Operations office, painted a drab color and 
covered with green branches, sat back forty or fifty yards 
from the edge of the field among the trees and shrubbery 
that lined this end of the aerodrome. It was in this 


294 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


building that I had spent my long forenoon with Captain 
von Bruck. 

Arnold shouted aloud as he pointed ahead. 

“ The Hanover is all right ! There she sits just where 
I left her. Are you ready for the last spurt, Duncan? 
If she is hurt one of our machines will land and pick 
you up ; we may have to ride home double, but we’ll have 
a look at the Hanover first.” 

Instead of replying I looked up to locate the positions 
of my blue-nosed machines. A rapid calculation told 
off seven of my pilots who were engaged in a grand old 
dog-fight at the eastern extremity of the field ; still others 
were free-lancing it up and down the streets of the town. 
But quite the greater number of my S. E. 5 ’s were at 
this moment gathering into line at the northeast quarter, 
with the evident intention of flying single-file over the 
hangars for another go with their incendiaries. I glanced 
at my watch and could scarcely believe my eyes when 
I found that it was not yet three o’clock ! The past five 
minutes had seemed more like sixty ! 

There was excitement aplenty on the ground. At the 
mouths of several dug-outs nearby we saw the red- 
banded caps of the Boche officers protruding about the 
rims of the lookouts, while forms of enlisted men and 
workmen flitted in their dirty green uniforms across the 
scene from one shelter to another. Three hangars away 
the flames were belching forth, licking up the wooden 
sides of the structure. Mechanics were frantically trun- 
dling forth the doomed machines — Fokkers, all of them; 
another gang was being pressed into service by officers in 
an attempt to fight the flames to prevent their spreading 
to the adjacent hangars. Officers and men alike kept 


DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY! 


295 


one eye cocked aloft to catch the first glimpse of ap- 
proaching danger. It was not long in coming. 

The S. E. 5’s were obediently swinging into single 
file at the signal of Captain Douglas, whose machine 
was quite distinguishable to us even at this distance. 
A sudden scampering to cover about the burning hangar 
warned us that it was unwise to linger longer here. 
With one accord officers and men dropped whatever hap- 
pened to be in their hands. Like a well-trained team 
they bolted for the nearest trenches. Douglas had ceased 
his maneuvering and was headed for us like a bolt out 
of the blue sky; the rest of the pack were after him in 
full cry. 

“ Come along, Arnold ! It’s time for us to move ! ” 
I shouted into Arnold’s ear. “ You get into the front 
seat and take control; I will start the propeller.” 

Without answering me Arnold put himself in motion, 
and it was none too soon. The Hanover lay three 
hundred paces ahead of us, some fifty yards beyond the 
field office. We must pass that house on our course 
to the machine. Every person in that building would 
see us pass; von Bruck must be among them! 

Hopeless as was our chance to pass this opening un- 
detected, more hopeless still was any alternative. My 
pilots would never be able to recognize me from the 
air, clothed as I was in this hideous German uniform. 
If we signaled them to alight for us we would be 
mowed down by machine guns before the planes could 
come to a stop. Even assuming we were able to get 
aboard one of the light S. E. 5’s the heavy load would 
make it difficult for her to leave the ground; it was 
asking too much from Providence to hope for a rescue 


296 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

from our own pilots; there seemed no alternative at 
all feasible. 

Operations Office was thronged with officers and men 
at all hours. This I knew from my long incarceration 
there this morning. Some of them would be in their 
bomb-proof cellar; it was more than probable that many 
others would be on the watch for every movement on 
the field; this depended on whether or not our pilots 
had discovered this adroitly camouflaged building; 
whether or not they had already strafed it with bombs 
and machine guns. The adjutant and all of his men 
had seen me at close quarters there this morning; would 
they recognize me in this burlesque uniform I now had 
on? If they did, it would be all up with Arnold as 
well as me! 

I would not willingly have risked Arnold’s life in 
an attempt to save myself ; but now it was too late to 
think of that; there was nothing else to do. Arnold’s 
thought had been to leave the Hanover well away from 
the Baron’s hangars, so that the bombs from our own 
machines would not injure her; unwittingly he had 
parked her in full view of the field office windows. 
“ Captain von Bruck can hardly fail to identify me, 
if he sees us pass,” was my thought, as I ran for 
dear life over the soft turf of the Baron’s aero- 
drome. 

To appreciate the speed of an aeroplane, one should 
try to run away from it on foot. The length of the 
Caudry aerodrome east and west, was fully half a mile ; 
our S. E. 5 ’s were not fairly straightened out for their 
dash over the long line of hangars when Arnold and I 
had taken to our legs as fast as we could move them. 


“DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY!” 297 

Before we had taken fifty strides, our blue-noses, flying 
in single file, were upon us. 

Noise of exploding bombs smote our ears; fragments 
of flying debris were hurled about our heads; the fu- 
rious roaring of the engines almost deafened us. Yet 
in spite of all this chaos and danger I felt a great yearn- 
ing in my heart that it might carry on for just a few 
delightful minutes longer — that it might continue to 
rap our enemies into their hiding-places until Arnold 
and I reached the black, crouching machine waiting 
there, a few yards ahead. The bombs seemed friendly, 
harmless, because they were bombs of our own. 

But bombs they were! We did not linger for fur- 
ther demonstration of their harmlessness. Arnold and 
I were running shoulder to shoulder a dozen yards out- 
side the fringe of bushes that edged, the field. Both 
of us looked back at our avenging blue-noses as we ran, 
then looked ahead to our goal so near at hand. Steeled 
as I was against the overconfidence that is so often dis- 
appointed, I nevertheless was unable to resist the thrill 
of coming freedom; Arnold’s plan had turned out so 
remarkably well! The field about us was absolutely 
deserted; the Hanover lay less than a hundred yards 
ahead; fifteen seconds more and we would know our 
fate ! 

We passed the low, drab building under the trees 
where I had spent my first hours of captivity, early this 
morning. This morning ! It seemed a week ago ! 
Two rows of small green shrubs lined the pebbled walk 
from the door of the house to the field; the green 
branches of lofty trees met overhead, hiding this walk 
from an airman’s eyes. 


298 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


As we came abreast of this tiny avenue, we saw Cap- 
tain von Bruck standing under the trees at its edge, a 
field glass in his hands, the handle of a pistol protruding 
from the holster on his belt; beside him two other of- 
ficers were staring at us with open-mouthed wonder 
as we labored past them with panting breath. 

Arnold’s jaw stiffened as he glanced without speak- 
ing into my face. Swerving off to the left I diverted 
my course in order to reach the Hanover’s front, while 
Arnold raced steadily along with his eyes fixed upon the 
cockpit and the front seat; shouts from von Bruck be- 
hind us only caused us to run the faster. As I turned 
the left wing of the machine and reached upward 
for the propeller, I gave one glance back over my 
shoulder; the German Operations Officer was running 
toward us at top speed, while a few paces behind him 
his two companions were following more leisurely in his 
wake. 

Overhead my alert pilots had already sighted us. 
Douglas swept by with a mighty roar, his flight-leader 
streamers flapping and snapping behind his wings as he 
banked sharply over my head; several other blue-noses 
were circling about us in narrow spirals, shooting their 
machine guns in short bursts as they roared by, the 
hooded faces of the pilots looking down over the sides 
of their cockpits peering at us as they passed. 

“ Contact ! ” I yelled to Arnold, as I seized the mo- 
tionless stick with both my hands, preparing to throw 
my whole weight upon it. 

“ Let her go ! ” Arnold yelled back through the din. 

With a mighty heave I swung my weight upon the 
propeller blade, putting every ounce of my strength into 


DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY! 


299 


one savage effort. The stick spun about on its orbit as 
I sprang to one side. A spasmodic bark of the exhaust 
told me that she had caught. I raced for the left end 
with blind disregard of caution, rounded the wing in 
two strides as I heard Arnold feed in the gas. With 
loud explosions from her cylinders the Hanover’s motor 
began to work in earnest; exultation fired my blood, 
sped my steps; nothing could stay us now, provided that 
jolly old motor remained true to us. 

I was vaguely aware that the confusion overhead was 
curiously thickening. I heard the rapid firing of our 
Vicker’s machine guns; looking up, I saw Babe Ballou 
executing the most extraordinary contortions over my 
head that ever an aeroplane achieved ; he was but one of 
several of my pilots who were darting about at dangerous 
proximity to the ground, directing their bullets at a 
point near our machine. Babe swooped down, barely 
clearing our machine; as he was about to plunge head- 
long into the ground beside me, he twisted about on his 
right wing, grazing the turf less than twenty yards away. 
When the dust cleared I saw the cause of Babe’s fool- 
hardy stunt; Captain von Bruck was standing facing us, 
a long Lugers leveled point-blank at my body; behind 
him his two companions were stretched lifeless on the 
ground, both felled with the same burst from Babe’s 
guns. 

Before Babe could bring his machine about into posi- 
tion for another charge, von Bruck, quick to take ad- 
vantage of his opportunity, ran in closer to us to gain 
the protection of our presence. I had reached Arnold’s 
side; my left hand was gripping the rim of the cockpit; 
the wind from the swiftly revolving propeller was tugging 


300 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


at my loose clothing; a single spring would place me in 
my seat; but the German captain had no intention of 
permitting me to take that leap. 

I saw the look of resolution take root in his eyes as 
he very deliberately lifted his pistol and held it at my 
head; I saw his fingers begin to close firmly about the 
pistol’s grip, his index finger slowly pressing the trig- 
ger. Behind his heels shots were ripping up the turf; 
general pandemonium held the sky over our heads, but 
I could only watch with a fascinated stare that slowly 
flexing finger hooked about the Lugers’ trigger, five 
paces away. His hand was as steady as a rock; for 
the first time in my life I had the realization that the 
end had come. 

I stood with my back to Arnold; I had quite forgot- 
ten his existence. 

“ Don’t shoot, Bunny ! ” I heard a familiar voice shout 
just behind my ear. “ Bunny ! Look at me!” 

I turned my head and saw Arnold, his cap and gog- 
gles off, his handsome face turned toward us, his hair 
flying in the stream of wind from the propeller; his 
hand was extended over the side of the cockpit and in 
his grasp shone a short army revolver. It was rigidly 
pointing at von Bruck’s heart. 

The German officer was within five paces of my side 
when Arnold called to him. I looked from Arnold’s 
face to his. He stared past me, his eyes fixed almost in 
terror on Arnold’s. I quite lost the sense of the tur- 
moil about us as we three stood there transfixed, staring 
at one another. 

“ Arnold Adair l ” gasped the Baron’s Operations Of- 
ficer, lifting his head, extending his neck until he pre- 



“Don’t shoot, Bunny!” I heard a familiar voice shout 
just behind me. See page 300. 




















I 



































t 








; 




























‘ 






















































“ DON’T SHOOT, BUNNY!” 301 

sented almost a grotesque appearance.. " Arnold 
Adair! ” 

“ If I shoot you, Bunny,” I heard Arnold distinctly 
say, “ I will most certainly shoot myself with the next 
bullet. This has to be, Reinhardt ! Drop that Lugers ! 
Take it, Duncan!” 

With a spring I was at von Brack’s side and with one 
violent wrench I tore the pistol out of his hand. Such 
force was altogether unnecessary, however, for he stood 
limply by, his eyes still gazing into Arnold’s with a pa- 
thetic stare. I swung myself into the rear seat of the 
Hanover calling sharply to Arnold : 

“ Give her the gun, old bean ! Open her full out ! ” 

Could it be possible I was free? 

With a roar from her exhaust, a sweeping rush of 
wind from her propeller that blanketed the landscape 
with dust, the Hanover moved down the field accom- 
panied by a convoy of whirling dervishes overhead. 
She bounded and lurched, she lifted and struck, then 
with a swoop and a zoom, she rose from the ground and 
cleaved the free air like a lark. Around us, above us, 
below us, our faithful blue-noses hemmed us in as we 
climbed. At three thousand feet Arnold turned her 
nose to the west; our swarm of protectors turned with 
us and still we climbed. 

The guns on the Caudry field redoubled their fury 
as we sailed along over their heads, while from a safe 
distance above and behind us, a motley array of the 
Baron’s scarlet Fokkers trailed along in our wake. 

One last picture remained in my mind long after the 
village of Caudry faded from our view; that was the 
desolate figure of Captain Reinhardt von Bruck standing 


302 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


where we had left him, white face upturned, watching 
our departure. 

What was that name Arnold had called him, causing 
his pistol to drop from my temple? Bunny? Was it 
Bunny? What in the world could that mean? And 
how in the world did he know Arnold Adair? 


CHAPTER XIX 


JACK RICHMOND APPEARS AND DISAPPEARS 

Arnold resumes the story 

T T was half-past three o’clock on a hot day in July, 
-*• when our pilots of the All-for-One Squadron swept 
victoriously away from the stricken aerodrome of 
Baron von Richtsmann. Fifteen minutes later every one 
of our machines had landed safely on our field west of 
Cambrai. 

Surrounding our slow Hanover, containing Duncan 
Stuart and me, our gallant fellows escorted us trium- 
phantly toward the lines, two or three machines flying 
high above us, several patrols protecting our sides and 
rear against the timid sorties of the scarlet-nosed Fok- 
kers that followed us from afar. It was plain to see 
that the Baron was not leading his cohorts this day. 
Where was he? 

We had left behind us on the Baron’s aerodrome a 
long-to-be-remembered souvenir of our visit. Two of 
his hangars were destroyed by fire; several aeroplanes 
had burned with the sheds; small bombs had shattered 
the field machine shop and headquarters; many officers 
and men were lying dead upon the field as the result of 
our effective machine gun practice. And our attack had 


304 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 

been carried off without a single serious casualty among 
our own. 

We knew that the audacity of our successful foray, 
the impertinence of our landing full on the enemy’s 
field, and the neat abduction of Major Stuart from their 
clutches, would annoy the rival camp far more than the 
physical damage that they had suffered. And we were 
correspondingly jubilant. 

During our fifteen-minute journey home Stuart and 
I had not exchanged a word. Once or twice I looked 
back at him only to find him looking past me toward 
England, a desperate gleam hardening his eyes. He did 
not notice my glance nor did he seem disposed to give 
a thought to- the menacing bursts of Archy about us, or 
the presence of the Baron’s nagging pilots in our rear. 
And well I knew where his thoughts were. 

As soon as our machine had stopped rolling along 
the turf, before the swarm of mechanics had reached us, 
Duncan leaped from his seat and ran for his hangar, 
shouting one sharp order in my ear to follow him. 
Already our S. E. 5’s were daintily dropping down to 
the field in various portions of the aerodrome. Over- 
head a dozen more were buzzing around in short circles, 
waiting for an open space to land in. Mechanics and 
men were excitedly scampering about the edges of the 
field, cheering wildly; general pandemonium filled the 
air. 

Everybody knew the object of our mission; every- 
body had been waiting with bated breath for our re- 
turn. Now, one by one, they had counted us as we 
came slanting down to our field; the count had found 
us all there. But better than all, the first figure to leap 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 305 


from his machine and run across to meet them was that 
of their great commanding officer himself, and that 
officer was grotesquely garbed in the uniform of a cap- 
tain of the enemy Air Service! 

But it was no eagerness to shake the mechanic’s hands 
that hurried Duncan Stuart for the door of the third han- 
gar; nor did he waste any time in explaining the mean- 
ing of his orders. As I ran after him as fast as my 
heavy German uniform would permit me to run, I saw 
him order several of his men with one gesture to follow 
him. 

“Get out both those Rockets ! Hurry ! Fill the 
tanks, put in ammunition, test the controls, and make 
it all one short operation. I’ll give you five minutes ! ” 
he shouted, as still running, we pressed a group of me- 
chanics ahead of us, the sergeant in their lead. 

Duncan and I helped each other disrobe our borrowed 
plumage as the mechanics hustled the machine out of 
the shed. One by one the pilots of the squadron came 
running, anxious to grasp Duncan by the hands and to 
shout congratulations into my ear. But Stuart did not 
pause to exchange compliments ; evidently he had 
thought out carefully during our flight home from Cau- 
dry the orders necessary to the instant completion of his 
plans, 

“ Babe, you’re to follow us ; Arnold and I are going 
in our Rockets to Herr Shubrug’s house on the Mole; 
you know the place.” 

Babe nodded. 

“ Bring Taffy, Foote and Peter Willerton with you. 
The Baron is there. He left Caudry in my S. E. 5 two 
hours ago.” 


306 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


With brief instructions as to the line of flight, the 
hour of rendezvous, Stuart turned to Douglas and Brit- 
son, giving each particular directions about sending 
messages to England and to General Turnbull concern- 
ing our hurried mission. He did not seem to notice the 
puzzled looks that traveled from face to face at his 
dramatic disclosure of the whereabouts of their great 
enemy, the Baron. 

Peter Willerton came hobbling toward us as swiftly 
as his crutches would carry him. Stuart advanced to 
meet his cousin. For a few minutes they conversed 
apart from our group, giving me an opportunity to dis- 
close as much of Stuart’s story to Taffy and Babe as I 
thought it necessary for them to hear from my lips. 

This was certainly the day of days! Yet the day was 
not done. 

Tired as we were at noonday, and exciting as had been 
the great adventure above Caudry, still did the Baron’s 
name have potency enough to buoy up the spirits of our 
picked band of aces, who yearned with one heart for the 
prize that had so long escaped us — the leader of the 
scarlet-hued Fokkers, the famous Baron von Richtsmann. 

It did not appear prudent under the circumstances for 
me to enlighten them as to the true mission of their 
famous enemy; nor to divulge to them the real motive 
of Duncan Stuart in calling upon them for this new ex- 
hibition of their fidelity. But I did tell them that Dun- 
can had learned during his short captivity of this in- 
tended visit of the Baron to Doctor Shubrug’s Sussex 
estate, and that our reaching the Mole promptly might 
deliver the Baron defenseless into our hands. 

“ The Baron is in British uniform and is flying Dun- 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 307 


can's machine,” I ended. “ Duncan believes he is in- 
tending to visit London and return to the Mole before 
dark to-night.” 

“ Holy M-M-Mackerel,” exploded Taffy, excitedly, 
“ let's g-g-go and get him ! ” 

“ I say,” interposed Foote more calmly, “ was the 
Baron fool enough to tell Duncan his plans before leav- 
ing? That’s a rum idea! How did Stuart learn all 
this?” 

“ That will all be told in England. We’ve got to 
obey orders anyway, Feet, so what's the use in arguing! ” 
put in Babe. “ I’ll go to Berlin if Stuart says to go. 
But London is the nuts. We'll have dinner at the club 
to-night and Duncan will tell us all about it.” 

We separated as Duncan and Peter turned toward 
their respective machines. For the next ten minutes each 
pilot was busily engaged in going over every detail of 
his craft’s equipment, its replenishment of fuel and am- 
munition. 

The sun was at my left elbow as I headed my Rocket 
smartly after Duncan, in his course for Calais-Dover 
and the Thames, a few minutes later. He had left 
curt instructions for Taffy, Babe and Foote to follow 
us as swiftly as they might, and already, as we neared 
the coast of France, our companions were lost in the 
wake of our fast-flying Rockets. Like an avenging 
executioner, Stuart flew, I thought to myself as from 
time to time I glanced across at his set face, his eyes 
gazing straight ahead of him along his upper wing. He 
was hitting up a terrific clip ! 

My thoughts were occupied with the amazing story 
Duncan had told me at Caudry concerning the Baron’s 


308 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


purpose in visiting the Mole. At the time of its dis- 
closure it had appeared unbelievable, even backed as it 
was by the doctor’s letter to the Baron; but the more 
I considered it the more reasonable Duncan’s surmises 
became. Once assumed the doctor’s alliance to Germany 
and the rest of the circumstances were logical. Well 
might Doctor Shubrug wait and plot for three years to 
accomplish such a coup for the Fatherland! With the 
Darkmoor properties in Asia under German ownership, 
the physical control of these railways would be only a 
matter of detail. Their utilization by Germany would 
mean the German occupation of India ! 

Who but an aviator of the German army could pene- 
trate to the heart of England on such a mission ? Who 
would be the aviator most conspicuously entitled to such 
a prize? The daring of the plan was in keeping with 
the reputation of this celebrated ace of the Germans. 
How Doctor Shubrug could contrive to force the inno- 
cent ward under his guardianship to give herself , away, 
how Germany would contrive to gain physical possession 
of the India railroad lines even after the Baron gained 
the legal rights to them — these were puzzles I could 
not solve. Doubtless the means were known to our 
enemies. 

The political importance of the expedition we were 
now engaged in was staggering to my imagination. To 
Duncan flying there by my side our responsibility may 
not have seemed so crushing; he had other motives, 
other considerations, to lead him on. As I looked across 
the wing tip at him I marveled at the task fate was 
bringing to me. 

The coming of the aeroplane makes strange things 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 309 


possible, I thought to myself. What is a war in France; 
what matter if a thousand-foot wall separate Germany 
from England — cannot an aeroplane fly over both? 
The very audacity of the Baron’s project would help 
him to succeed. 

With the stick under my knee and one foot held 
against the rudder bar, I coursed along above the green 
waters of the Channel, the wind rushing by my head at 
one hundred and fifty miles per hour. Never had man 
annihilated the space between France and England with 
such speed. With no mercy whatever for the racing 
motor of his priceless Rocket, Duncan was setting a pace 
that was desperate, killing. With apprehensive eyes I 
watched the gauges on my dashboard to catch the first 
signs of distress in my lubrication and temperature. The 
shores of old England were now beneath our wings. It 
was not yet four-thirty. We had covered the distance 
from Cambrai in sixteen minutes. Another ten min- 
utes and we would be at our destination. Would we be 
too late? 

Far away to our left a long flight of De Havilands 
was crossing from England. Ferry pilots were bring- 
ing over a new supply of bombers from the factory. 
Stuart did not appear to notice them. His unwinking 
eyes were staring ahead of him toward the haze that 
covered the Mole River. 

To our right the broad estuary of the River Thames 
opened up into the coastline. Now and again I caught 
the glint of a turning wing against the background of 
water, blue or green. But Stuart seemed indifferent 
to all passing craft, maintaining his course as though it 
was set by compass. Without questioning his judg- 


310 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


ment or criticizing his purpose I flew along, tightly hug- 
ging his left wing tip, content to follow him as long as 
my motor kept up. 

The Mole, as the country place of the famous, or in- 
famous London physician was called, was an estate of 
considerable extent, covering upwards of ten thousand 
acres, much of which was rough and hilly, thickly over- 
grown with timber. The long stone house faced the 
little stream, setting back behind three hundred yards 
of lawns and shrubbery; the lawns ran in either direc- 
tion to the great gates which permitted the private road 
to enter the doctor’s grounds at one end and to depart 
toward London at the other. 

Behind the house lay a small spinney, one end of which 
was bordered by stables and outhouses, a glass covered 
hothouse, buildings connected with the farming of the 
property. Groups of noble trees dotted the expanse of 
lawns about the doctor’s house; here and there care- 
fully laid out rows of elms formed a border along cer- 
tain fields long ago tilled and cultivated. The view of 
these fields from the air was exceedingly beautiful, the 
waving branches casting green shadows upon the smooth 
green turf beneath, the vari-colored flowers and shrubs 
adorning the garden and lawns with pleasing glimpses 
of scarlet, yellow and white; along the whole front of 
the doctor’s estate the River Mole ran its peaceful way, 
its banks bordered with continuous lines of willow trees 
whose graceful branches covered half the river’s width 
from view. 

The long field nearest the house lay just behind these 
willows. As we approached the Mole Stuart cut down 
his motor. I promptly followed suit, keeping above 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 311 


him well to his rear so as to be able to follow him closely 
in any maneuver he might decide to make. 

One sweeping look to our rear satisfied me that none 
of our companions were yet within sight. In their 
slower machines another ten minutes would be needed for 
their arrival. Would Duncan wait for them or would he 
immediately begin his investigations ? 

The long open field lay less than two miles ahead 
of us. All our way across the Channel we had main- 
tained an altitude of a thousand feet. And now, as we 
slackened our speed, and straightened out in single file, 
I observed that Duncan was dropping lower and lower. 
Evidently he intended to slide quietly in at the lower 
end of the field with his motor just ticking over, so as 
to give as little notice of our coming as possible. I 
could see him anxiously scanning the surface of the 
fields around us. The forest top beneath our wings 
was passing by at terrific speed. I glided along, my 
eyes alternatingly fixed upon Duncan ahead of me, then 
on the rapidly approaching edge of the field where he 
evidently intended to make his landing. My oil pump 
had been exhibiting disquieting signs of trouble; an 
agonizing squeak of my motor when I had cut off its 
fuel told me as plainly as words can do that its minutes 
were numbered. That Duncan’s motor was in equal 
distress from its recent hard usage was almost certain. 
We had been flying full out the whole distance from 
Cambrai. 

I saw Duncan turn in his seat and sweep his arm 
about in a signal that was well known to every pilot 
in his squadron; he had discovered an enemy in the dis- 
tance. I looked ahead, eagerly scrutinizing the grounds 


312 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


at the rear of the long Tudor mansion that faced the 
river; somewhere in that vicinity Duncan had meant 
to draw my attention. 

In a moment I discerned the object he had indicated. 
Under the trees at the far end of the field, its outline 
and color almost blended with the bluestone outhouse 
behind which it was resting, I made out the form of 
an S. E. 5 machine — only the two dark lines of its 
wings, and the somewhat bluer color of its nose, helping 
to betray its position at this distance. From overhead 
the aeroplane would be quite hidden by the trees. 

There was no longer any doubt as to our objective. 
Duncan had already lifted the nose of his Rocket to ex- 
tend his glide to the middle of the long field. I heard 
his motor give a series of short barks as he fed in more 
petrol; then it suddenly became mute. His propeller 
stopped dead still in the air! The overworked motor 
had seized! 

Fortunately I had retained slightly more altitude than 
Duncan held; fearing to attempt the experiment that 
had killed his motor, I flattened out my glide to its 
extreme, holding grimly on; I watched the edge of the 
forest draw closer, the uneven surface of the hay field 
appear. I might make half a mile farther. Duncan 
would be lucky if he cleared the trees. 

The rough clods of the field came more distinctly into 
view ; I did not dare to look about me to learn the posi- 
tion of my companion, nor to look ahead for further par- 
ticulars surrounding the outbuildings of The Mole. I 
prepared for a hazardous landing in a swift machine. 
If I struck a stump or stone, if the recent rains had left 
the ground soft enough to give way to any appreciable 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 313 


depth upon the impact of my wheels, I might come a bad 
cropper. Now I was skimming the patches of grass 
twenty feet above the ground. The fairway ahead 
looked to me to be reasonably smooth and firm. I 
looked ahead to estimate the very least distance my 
Rocket must roll before coming to a stop. As I did so 
a spectacle met my eyes that took all further thought of 
my own danger from my mind. 

A group of several persons appeared under the trees 
at the edge of the lawn. One was a slim girl clad in 
a gray colored gown. Three other figures were running 
toward the aeroplane which stood facing me from its 
position against the rear of the stables. Two of these 
figures wore the British flying uniform; Fallon and the 
Baron! The third had the unmistakable girth of Doc- 
tor Franzel Shubrug himself. Duncan and I had arrived 
before the patrol from London. 

I threw one swift glance over my shoulder just as 
the wheels of my machine were rubbing the ground. 
That glance told me that Duncan had landed safely 
though not without receiving some damage. His right 
wing lay crumpled and shattered while the left wing 
pointed obliquely into the sky. He had landed several 
hundred yards behind me. I could not manage a long 
enough look to determine whether or not he was hurt. 

As it was I had looked behind me too long. Auto- 
matically I let my tail drop to the ground, subconsciously 
I felt that I had made a perfect landing; I looked ahead 
to see whether any small obstacles should be avoided in 
my path; and then, when everything seemed clear be- 
fore me and my little machine had almost run its mo- 
mentum down, I felt my heart go into my throat. 


314 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


The ha-ha fence is not known extensively at home; 
in England every farmer has them. It is simply a 
wide ditch, sloping on one side, built up perpendicularly 
on the other. It shows no obstruction above the sur- 
face of the field. But its depth keeps cattle from cross- 
ing from one portion of the field to another. 

It was not until I was within twenty feet of the ha-ha 
fence that I noticed it. My machine was still taxi-ing 
forward at thirty miles an hour. I threw off the clasp 
that held me strapped to my seat, acting from instinct 
rather than reasoning. But it was too late. I felt 
the nose of my dainty little aeroplane topple fear- 
fully over. Simultaneously there came a crash. I felt 
myself thrown violently forward. I began a catapult 
through the air that lasted for interminable hours. I 
did not know when that last flight of mine ended. For 
in fact that was the last flight I was ever to take — in 
the uniform of the British. 

When I awoke and opened my eyes I found myself 
staring into the gray plaid skirt of a woman’s dress; a 
faint delicious perfume was stealing through my senses. 
I think it was the familiar scent of Lady Joan’s own in- 
dividual perfume that made me know she was there be- 
fore I remembered where I was. I lay some time with 
my head in her lap listening to the familiar voices, con- 
scious that a cool soft hand was smoothing my forehead, 
but altogether unable to summon back my memory or 
my full senses. 

“ Duncan, my precious one, they told me you were 
killed — they told me you were killed ! ” I heard the 
low voice of Joan Darkmoor saying. “ Oh, Duncan, 
what can you be thinking of me! How can I tell you 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 315 


all that has happened ! How can I make you understand 
what I have done ! ” The far-away voice seemed vaguely 
troubled, sorrowful to my ears. 

“ Never mind that now, my dearest,” Duncan’s voice 
replied. I felt the fingers on my brow tremble. “ There 
is so much to explain. Thank God I got here in time.” 

“ But think what I have done, Duncan ! Duncan, 
you know that I love you better than life itself. I 
was left alone — absolutely alone. My own guardian 
brought me the news of your death. He described all 
the details, he retold them to me until he drove me mad. 
He would have no pity, seemingly kind as he was.” 

“ My darling!” 

“ I did not know of this wedding ceremony, not until 
we arrived here at noon. He told me you were killed. 
He tortured me with the details of your death. I had 
no friends, Duncan. No one was permitted to see me, 
I think. I hate Doctor Shubrug. But he is my guard- 
ian. My father left me in his care.” 

“ My poor darling.” 

She was sobbing now. I strove to awaken but my 
eyes would not open. Again I seemed to hear the de- 
lightful voice of Joan Darkmoor speaking from a long 
distance away but the accents now were sad and despair- 
ing. 

“ My father, Duncan, you knew his wishes. While 
he lived I refused to obey him. Always I would have 
refused if you had been with me. You were always in 
my thoughts, dear Duncan. But they told me you had 
been killed. 

“ Doctor Shubrug brought me here this morning with- 
out telling me what he intended to do. I would not have 


316 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


come if I had known. The clergyman too tried to break 
my spirit. I was so friendless, so alone. They pled 
with me to remember my father’s wishes. They preyed 
upon my mind without mercy, saying that Richard, my 
dear brother Richard, would have wished me to marry 
as my father desired. They told me that the honor, 
the safety, of my country was at stake. They read me 
my father’s will. They told me I had no right tO' think 
of myself, to ask for delay. The blessed railroads of 
the Darkmoor Limited were more precious tO' the wel- 
fare of the British Empire than the feelings of a mere 
girl. 

“ I did marry him, Duncan, but I shall never see him 
— never see him again. They agreed to that. Indeed 
they agreed to that condition. I did not care for the 
railroads. I did not care for anything. I signed the 
papers they put before me. I did not even care what 
they were. When John Richmond came we were mar- 
ried — ” 

“ What,” shouted Duncan Stuart’s voice with a stern- 
ness that summoned every ounce of vitality within my 
body to arise and quicken. “ When John Richmond 
came, did you say ! ” 

I rolled swiftly from the soft cushion that had held 
me and sat up on the ground. With bewildered fingers 
I rubbed my temples and looked about me. Yes, there 
in the flesh, sat Duncan Stuart and Joan Darkmoor. 
It was not all a dream then, those voices I had heard. 
My head ached as if I had just awakened from a hideous 
dream. A lump on the side of my head seemed very 
painful to my touch. 

Joan screamed faintly as she sprang to her feet and 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 317 


stood over me. Duncan was supporting me with one 
arm about my shoulder, was drawing away my fingers 
from the bruises on my temples. 

“ Steady now, old son,” he was saying in his authori- 
tative way. “ Lie down again and take it easy for a bit 
longer.” 

A rush of recollections came to my vacant mind just 
then, and I turned my aching head and looked around 
me. There twenty feet away lay the mangled remains 
of my beautiful Rocket. Its tail was sticking high in 
the air; its nose was buried in the soft earth of the 
ha-ha fence; its fragile wings were stripped clear of 
the fusilage and were lying in tortured heaps about the 
ground. 

“ Cheerie-O, old thing, and how do you feel ? ” in- 
quired Duncan, solicitously feeling over my arms, body, 
and legs for breakages. “ You passed out ten or fifteen 
minutes since; but I knew you were coming around. 
Better lie down again for a bit. Both our Rockets have 
made their last flights.” 

“ Where’s the Baron ? ” I asked, a stupid feeling that 
I was witnessing a play or listening to the plot of a story, 
entering my mind. 

“ We’ll soon know,” answered Duncan, turning about 
and gazing off to the east. “ They can not get far with 
that great load in my old S. E. 5 .” 

“ What great load ? ” 

“ Why, the Baron and the Doctor both left the ground 
the very moment you crashed,” Duncan went on. “ I 
forgot you didn’t see it. They both crammed into my 
little bus; after a long run she lifted into the air, just 
managed to clear the trees. But they will not get far. 


318 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


I think we will have some news from them in a minute 
or two.” 

He pointed upward toward the eastern horizon, where 
after a moment’s dizzy focusing of my eyes I thought I 
discerned the approach of three or four aeroplanes. 

So far I had not collected my wits enough to speak to 
the girl who was kneeling by my side. Now I looked at 
her and saw her face was very pale and her eyes were 
filled with tears. I held out my hand to her, and she 
took it in both her own. Before I could prevent it she 
lifted it to her lips. 

“ God bless you, Arnold,” she said in a low voice ; 
“ you brought him back to me. Duncan has told me 
what you did to-day.” 

I tried to thank her, tried to express my affection for 
them both, but was making rather a bad mess of it 
when Duncan mercifully interrupted me. “ We must 
get out of here,” said he, “ or our fellows will try to 
make a landing over that ha-ha fence just as you did. 
Let’s move on up the field.” Picking up two pieces of 
the shattered top wing of my Rocket, Duncan carried them 
along in one hand, the other arm supporting Joan as we 
walked forward toward the old Tudor house. The dis- 
tant specks grew larger and larger; now we heard the 
roaring of their motors; and now, as Duncan laid out 
the white fabric in the rude shape of the letter T on the 
green pasture grass, we heard them one by one cut down 
their motors for a landing. 

Standing side by side at the edge of the doctor’s field, 
Joan between us with an arm under each of ours, we 
watched the jaunty little machines come gliding down. 
A premonition that my orders were due transferring me 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 319 


from the All-for-One Squadron of the English to the 
Air Service of my own country suddenly made me look 
at the formation with new affection and pride. Here 
came the debonair Babe, leading the way as usual, with 
reckless abandon and matchless skill; Taffy smartly 
clinging to his tail, determined to swerve away and land 
by his chum’s side, so to come rolling up to our feet and 
half together like a well-trained pair of coach horses; 
Feet, and Peter, both crippled, yet both wonderful flyers, 
who had not been content with doing their splendid bit in 
the war, but incapacitated as they were, still retaining 
their places among the finest of this wonderful squadron. 
More cautious than Babe and Taffy, these last two pilots 
came carefully down, stretched out for a perfect landing 
and two seconds apart, cut off their whirling propellers 
within ten paces of where we stood. 

Peter Willerton was the last to climb out of his ma- 
chine; we all assembled there to aid him in his descent. 

A curious restraint seemed to pervade us all. It could 
not have been the presence of Miss Darkmoor, or the 
Baroness von Richtsmann, as she must now be called ; for 
the irrepressible Babe Ballou, and the excitable Taffy 
Walsh never knew the meaning of decorum or restraint. 
But for once in their lives they descended from their 
cockpits slowly, solemnity in their appearance. Foote 
was the nearest to us but he did not look at us as he 
slowly unfastened his belt and lifted his wooden leg 
over the side of his machine. He joined us without 
speaking as we moved along to the last machine in the 
row, where Peter was unshipping his crutches and pre- 
paring to alight. 

Peter looked silently back into the east. 


320 ARNOLD ADAIR WITH THE ENGLISH ACES 


“ Cheerie-O, Peter,” Stuart accosted him, “ where did 
you meet them ? ” 

We all stood motionless about Peter’s cockpit awaiting 
his reply. He did not look at us as he placed both 
crutches firmly onto the sod. Then leaning his armpits 
upon their supports, he turned his head and looked back 
along the tail of his machine toward the east. 

“ Just the other side of the Dover cliffs.” 

“ Over the Channel ? ” 

“ About a mile out.” 

“ Did they sink? ” 

“ Like a rock,” interposed Taffy, without a stutter. 
“ The Baron was flying just above the sea. He had 
somebody with him in your single seater. They were 
both crammed into this little hole,” slapping his hand de- 
risively on the edge of Peter’s small cockpit. 

“ If he hadn’t fired at us we would have driven him 
back to the shore,” put in Foote soberly, “ but the Baron 
was game to the last minute. He couldn’t climb or 
manoeuvre with that load of freight. Both of them must 
have been killed before they struck the water. They 
went in nose first ; the wings came off. The heavy motor 
took them to the bottom, like a bullet.” 

Stuart remained motionless, his eyes fixed upon the 
ground. Joan looked timidly from one face to another 
in the circle before she spoke. 

“ The Baron ! ” she faltered. 

“ The Baron von Richtsmann is John Richmond, Doc- 
tor Shubrug’s nephew and ward, my dearest. He was a 
gallant fellow and we must not blame him for fighting for 
his mother’s country. He did his duty as he saw it; he 
fought like a gentleman and a sportsman. He married 


RICHMOND APPEARS — AND DISAPPEARS 321 


you to-day to get control of the India railroads for Ger- 
many. As it remains now, you are his widow, and his 
interests in those properties are vested in you — and in 
England.” 

The sun was dropping behind the lofty willows' that 
fringed the Mole as we walked in a semi-circular group 
to the empty house of the doctor. As we entered the 
gate that gave on to the lawn, Major Stuart led the way 
with Joan clinging to his arm. Peter and Feet hobbled 
along behind them while I held open the swinging gate 
for Taffy and Babe. As they passed me I heard Taffy 
stutter : 

“ After dinner at the Club, we’ll go to the theater ! 
‘As You Were ’ is a good war play.” 

“ Right you are, old bean,” responded Babe. “ Top- 
ping good show, that ! ” 


THE END 












































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